Home is Where the Heart is
by thrillergirl
Summary: This version of Home Alone did not end on a happy note; there was no Old Man Marley to save Kevin and the two burglars were left with a life defining decision to make. This is my idea out what would have happened to Kevin had the "wet bandits" gotten their way. This story isn't like other Home Alone stories, trust me.
1. Prologue

Home is Where the Heart is

The air is crisp and cold as it should be. I shove my hands into my pockets, ignoring the wind as best as I can. Not too far away, a little girl squeals in delight at the night's sky. There are no clouds and I know the stars must be shining bright. I don't look up. I don't care. Around me, people are quickening their pace. Children are laughing and chasing each other to the sound of their mothers' call. I wish I could tell them to never ignore their mother's call. But I can't and I don't. I watch them all, these happy families, as one by one, they enter the church. I don't follow.

I wait.

In silence. In the shadows.

Will they come? Will I see them? A part of me wishes they wouldn't, wishes that they would stay away, while another part of me is begging for them to show up. I don't pray. Not even on this night. I learned a long time ago that no one was listening. Unfortunately, not even this knowledge keeps me from hoping.

There are fewer people now, only a few remaining stragglers dare brave the cold to run some last minute errands. I take out my watch, an old thing that doesn't fit my wrist anymore, and see that mass should start any moment. My eyes search the area one last time, my heart heavy with regret, when I see four cars pulling up in the church's parking lot one after the other.

I light up instantly and even take a step forward to get a better look at the late comers, only to retreat hastily in the shadows. They _are_ here! They came! For a few blissful seconds, I don't feel anything as I gaze hungrily at each of their faces. The pain, I know, will soon follow, but for a moment, just a moment, I am content.

Until I see her.

My heart gives a painful pang as I recognize her in the familiar crowd. For a second, I forget how old I am and wish I could fling myself into her arms.

Mom.

She seems so much smaller than I remember. Her hair, however, is just as red, although shorter. Even from the distance, I can see how kind and warm her smile is as she talks to the blond child at her side I know to be Megan's son. My nephew. Still just a toddler.

Am I just imagining the fleeing sadness in my mother's face as the boy holds out his arms for my sister to pick him up? Guilt and shame flood my heart. Just a few steps, one word, just one word from my lips and the world would be right again.

But I can't.

Not now. Not ever.

So I hold my peace and watch my family disappear in the church. The doors close behind them and the night suddenly seems eerily still. I can feel the cold now and yet, I can't will myself to move. To leave. Not even when I sense their presence behind me.

"Are you done?" asks the first, smaller man, with his usual impatience. "Not thinking of doing anything stupid, are you?

– Harry, give him a break, will you? Besides, he knows better, don't you Kevin?"

I sigh but do not bother answering.

"Come on kid, let's go home", adds the other man on a much gentler tone.

No matter the kindness behind those words, they scorch me.

 _Home._

You don't even know the meaning of the word, Marv, I bitterly thought. I know better than to voice these thoughts. I had long since learned the hard way to hold my tongue.

As the hymns from the church dimly fill the air, the pain suddenly hits. I grit my teeth to keep my tears from escaping as I follow the two men in silence. Just before disappearing once more into the night, I take one last look at the small church.

God, I hate Christmas.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

As usual, Harry is the one driving. Marvin is tuning the radio, switching from one channel to the next, to Harry's annoyance. I know what's coming. I watched it unfold a hundred time before. Still, I say nothing. As if on cue, I hear Harry snap at Marvin:

"Will you cut it out, already!

– It's those damn commercials" complains Marvin. "I hate commercials! I want some music!

– How many times do I have to tell you, Marv, we live in a commercial world. There are commercials. All. The. Time. Will you just deal with it!

– It's Christmas Eve. I want to listen to some Christmas music." replies Marvin, stubborn as ever.

I close my eyes. For once, I agree with Harry. I really don't care for Christmas music these days. I keep this opinion to myself. Over the years, I have learned not to interfere in their dynamic. At their side, I learned a great deal of things, come to think of it. Thing they don't teach you at school. Things good parents – my parents – protect their children from. My parents would be horrified if they knew what I had been exposed to, which is why they would never find out.

I sit in silence in the backseat of the van and tune out Harry and Marvin's bickering. I look out the window as we go by rows upon rows of illuminated houses. I try my best not to pay too much attention to the scenery, but the neighborhood is too familiar to ignore. I remember walking down those streets, racing my bike with my friends down that hill and playing hide-and-seek in those backyards. Tonight is definitely not the night to be reminded of things better left alone.

Poisonous thoughts, memories.

Memories of how my life used to be, how it should have been. Cause it sure wasn't supposed to turn out this way.

Damn.

I promised myself I wouldn't let my mind go down that road.

There was nothing left for me down that road.

I am quick to notice that we are not taking the road leading to the highway and out of town but going deeper into the suburbs.

Shit.

This can only mean one thing.

Seriously, of all nights, did he really have to pick _this_ one! I suddenly realize that Harry's apparent kindness had not been so selfless after all. I curse him in silence. Everything always came at a price with Harry. I fidget in my seat. I don't want to think about our destination and what would be required of me.

I close my eyes once again, willing my mind to focus on something else. This was a bad idea. Returning to Chicago, no matter how much I longed to go back, was a bad idea.

"Hey, are you done sulking, back there?" barks Harry.

I open my eyes, choosing my words with care. You always had to be careful when dealing with Harry. Why did it take me so long to figure that out, I'll never know, but it sure would've saved me from a lot of pain. Then again, I was a really cheeky kid back then.

"We're not going home, are we?" I ask quietly, without a hint of accusation.

"Noticed that, didn't ya? No, we're not going home yet. We have work to do.

– I don't like it.

– Yeah well, no one asked for your opinion", sneers Harry.

I look over at Marvin. Did he know? Of course he knew. I let a few seconds pass.

"You know this is a bad idea.

– Face it kid, you're old news, it was a long time ago."

Not to _me_ , it wasn't, I think furiously. I bite down the remark. I may be taller than Harry now, but his punches were still vicious. And Harry never forgot or overlooked a slight. Real _or_ imaginary. I don't respond but notice how Marvin looks nervous all of a sudden.

"The kid is not wrong…" he finally interjects.

"What are you, superstitious or something? These are some of the finest neighborhoods around town. Aren't you sick and tired of travelling for hours to hit houses that are barely worth the tank of gas it took to get there?

– Can't argue with that" finally agrees Marvin while thoughtfully scratching his neck.

Shit.

Double shit.

I should have known Marvin would side with Harry.

He usually did.

As Harry is slowing down, sizing up the houses on each side of the street, I try my best to quiet my anxiety. Without realizing it, my eyes travel up and down the street, a bad habit I picked-up after years spent at their side. I study each house, making a mental note of their approximate worth, spotting the back alley doors in shadows and the exterior lights activated by movement. I know it all by heart and a part of me is sickened by it. The part of me I try to forget about.

Harry then turns over to me with that strange patience he only seems to display when we are about to break into a new place.

"So, kid; which one will it be?"

His question does not surprise me. I already know which house Harry has his heart set one. Without hesitation, I point to the white brick one that sits at the end of the street, furthest away from the street lamp. Light shines through the upper-floor window, but there are no cars in front. Most telling of all is the immaculate snow paving the driveway and veranda. We hadn't had a snowfall in over a week.

Harry rewards me with a smile, a true smile that almost seems fatherly. Almost."Atta boy, now you're talking, kid!

– Don't you think I am getting kinda old to be called "kid" all the time?" I can't help but ask, slightly annoyed.

Again, Harry smiles, while Marvin laughs it off.

"Forget it, kid! Twenty, thirty years from now, we'll still be calling you kid, you wait and see!"

At his words, I freeze. _Twenty or thirty years from now_? Didn't he realize how awful it sounded? Didn't he understand what that meant? I watch them as they quietly exit the van, tools in hand. Before either of them notice my hesitation, I grab my pair of gloves and hood and follow. I should concentrate on what is about to happen, on what I'm about to do, but Marvin's words keep spinning in my mind.

Twenty or thirty years for now.

God, would I ever be free of them?

Under Harry's watchful eye, I spread duct tape all over one of the side windows before smashing it in with my elbow, just as he taught me.

As I hear the glass shatter, I know the answer to that question is no. It's too late. I am way beyond saving.

They made sure of that.


	3. Chapter 2

_Dear Anon, thank you very much for your comment! English is only my second language, so it means a lot to me that you would think it is well written. I practically never use the first person narration, but it somehow just felt right for this story._

 _I have not written a fan fiction in years and I certainly never thought I would write one on Home Alone! I watched the two originals as usual during the holidays but for some reason, this story only came to me a little over a week ago. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it!_

 _Chapter 3 is already underway and I'll update as soon as possible._

Chapter 2

It wasn't supposed to go down this way. Harry and Marvin never should have gotten away with what they did. They were the _bad guys_. Bad guys aren't supposed to win! Especially not on _my_ territory. Such a childish notion.

The sort of thing only an eight-year-old would come up with.

For some reason, I truly believed I didn't need the police, or any help for that matter. I believed with absolute certainty that I, an eight-year-old boy, could outsmart two grown and experienced men. My mistake, as Marvin liked to point in the following months. Neither he nor Harry ever admitted to how close I came to besting them. Not quite a comforting thought, but one that sustained me for a few years.

I put them through hell that night and relished every second. I had never been so in control of a situation, every trap, every trip wire, every nail, blowtorch and paint can; everything went according to plan. And when it didn't, there was always Axl, Buzz's pet tarantula, to save the day. High on my victory, I never imagined how fast the table could turn on me.

Finding the Murphy's basement flooded should have given me pause. I didn't think, didn't realize what it meant. Next thing I knew, I had found myself face to face with two royally pissed-off burglars.

I remember my shock at finding them behind that door, waiting for me. I wasn't afraid; I did not have time to be afraid. One of them, I think it was Marvin, grabbed me by the collar and pulled me into the kitchen. That's when my head exploded with pain. I never quite knew what hit me. I suspect Harry; he always knew how to land a punch. My head was thrown back and I suppose I must have hit something hard. The kitchen counter has always been my guess. And then, everything went black, which, in retrospective, is probably what saved my life. Had I remained conscious, I am not sure they would have been able to restrain themselves from beating me to death.

Then again, that's also how I ended up stuck with them.

Perhaps they should have killed me that night, all those years ago. Perhaps I _would_ have been better off dead. And sometimes, the fact I can't decide which would have been preferable worries me.

I like to think that Harry and Marvin never had it in them to kill a child, once the initial anger and outrage had passed, of course. Why else would they have put up with me for so long? Not to mention all the trouble I caused and boy did I cause trouble! How many sleepless nights, cold sweat and energy did they waste trying to tie loose ends? How many close calls were there? Yes, upon reflection, there were probably many times they must have regretted not killing me.

Only they weren't killers.

Harry and Marvin were many things; liars, thieves, burglars, criminals and now kidnappers, but they were never killers.

So they didn't kill me. But they couldn't just let me walk away either. It's was only later, much later, that I realized how that 911 call I made before rushing over to the Murphy's sealed my fate. Upon hearing the police's siren, Harry and Marvin had panicked. They didn't discuss it, didn't weight the pros and cons or considered the repercussions of taking me with them, there was no time. They just reacted. One of them grabbed me, probably Marvin, and they ran for it.

I know as much because I woke-up to the sound of their arguing. Their shouts, the violent swirling of the vehicle as Harry raced out of town, the darkness of the van and stolen items falling all over me… that's when the fear settled in. I was so confused; I thought I must be in some sort of nightmare. It sure felt like a nightmare.

Only it wasn't.

It was worst, much worst.

It took a moment for reality to sink in, as I slowly sat up, my eyes, no doubt wide with fear, resting on the two men in the front seats. Their back was turned to me and they were so engrossed in their argument that they paid me no mind.

"Harry, let's just ditch him somewhere and leave" cried Marvin, clearly freaking out.

– Turn the kid loose? Are you crazy!" bellowed Harry. "He knows our names, he knows our faces! Do you want to see our portraits plastered all over the state!

– What the hell are we going to do!

– I don't know! I _don't_ know, damn it! Just let me _think_!

– We're screwed. We are so screwed!

– Shut up Marv! Let me think!

– Do you know what they do to people who mess with kids in jail?! We can't go to jail! No way, not over this!

– We won't, just shut up and let me think!" kept repeating Harry.

In my confusion, their words barely registered. The only thing I knew for sure was that I needed to get away from them _now_. Had I been calmer or older, I would not have been so quick to act and would have waited for the opportune moment to make my move, but fear got the best of me. It was stupid, dangerous and, worst of all, pointless. Of course, there was no way for me to know all that when I threw myself on the van's door.

My action did not go unnoticed as I heard Harry practically shriek at Marvin to stop me. If possible, his screaming only heightened my fear. I clumsily grabbed the handle and pulled with all my strength. The door flew open and the frigid wind of the night brought tears to my eyes. That's when I realized how fast Harry was driving. He, of course, chose that moment to stomp his foot on the breaks, throwing me against Marvin who had leaped out of his seat, knocking the air out of the both of us. I fought to get back on my feet, but Marvin was first to recover; he shoved me to the other side of the van before hastily closing the door once more. In desperation as much as in terror, I opened my mouth and called for help at the top of my lungs.

"Make him shut up!" Harry yelled while speeding once again down the road.

As if Marvin needed to be told! He had already launched himself at me, pinning me to the floor of the van and muffling my screams with his hands. Something sharp was painfully jammed in my back and Marvin's weight only made it worst. I fought back. As best as I could, as best as any eight-year-old could, but that only made Marvin tighten his grip. And still, I screamed. It was useless, no one could hear me, but I couldn't stop.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" I heard Marvin hiss angrily.

So I bit down.

Hard.

I can still remember the taste of his glove, a mixt of dust and motor oil. It was disgusting, but I sank my teeth into it nonetheless. In the semi-darkness, I saw Marvin wince, but he still wouldn't let go. I suppose that after everything he had just gone through that night, my teeth were just a minor discomfort to him.

Finally, the adrenaline rush that had fuelled my escape attempt ran out. I was left drained, in pain and trembling. I stopped my flailing and gave Marvin my most intimidating glare, while fighting back my tears. A lot of good it did me; he wasn't even looking at me.

"Please tell me no one saw that", he asked Harry, his voice shaking slightly.

"We got lucky there were no cars around. Just make sure he can't pull anything like that again. And for the love of God, gag him, or something!"

I stiffened upon hearing those words. I looked at Marvin while remaining very still, hoping against all hope he would disregard his partner's suggestion. I heard him take a deep breath before asking Harry to toss him his scarf. Some white feathers still clung to it, now but a distant reminder of Harry's humiliation, but that memory didn't amuse me anymore.

Marvin then locked eyes with me:

"If I take off my hands, do you promise not to scream?"

I nodded, my heart beating fast. Hell, I would have agreed to anything just to be able to catch my breath. I could see Marvin didn't trust me as he slowly removed his hands. I filled my lungs with air, but, as promised, kept quiet. After a moment, Marvin sat back. Cautiously, I did the same, never taking my eyes off the stranger in front of me.

"Okay, kid; turn around and give me your hands.

– What?

– Turn around!" snapped Marvin, his patience wearing thin.

I refused to move. It might have seemed out of defiance, but it was mostly because turning my back to him did not sound like a good idea.

"Damn it, kid!" cursed Marvin, grabbing my arm.

"Let go, you jerk!" I cried instantly while trying to escape his grip.

I reached for some kind of goblet lying next to me and threw it at his face. Marvin ducked just in time, but I had successfully managed to piss him off again.

"Would you just turn around and hold still!"

But I wouldn't hold still. His grip was painful on my arm and, to be honest, with his hair dishevelled, his face bruised and swollen, Marvin looked downright insane. I couldn't help myself; I threw caution to the wind and screamed.

"Help! Let me go!"

That's when Marvin snapped. He released my arm, only to grab the first thing his fingers could wrap themselves around, some sort of glass snow globe, he brandished over his head.

"Shut up!" he roared, spit flying in my face.

I flinched, and fell silent. The threat could not have been clearer, yet his tone is what really struck me. I could tell Marvin meant business, and that he would hurt me bad if I didn't obey.

I didn't dare protest when he roughly turned me around and tied my hands together. He then produced some duct tape which he used to gag me. By that point, my arms were already going numb from the ties and I whimpered. Either Marvin didn't hear or he chose to ignore me. When he was done, he sat there without looking at me, breathing hard for a moment before slowly making his way back to his seat.

"You okay?" asked Harry, his worry undisguised.

There was a long pause. When Marvin did answer, he sounded tired:

"Fuck, no."

Harry didn't respond and kept driving in silence on what I could now see was some backroad I did not recognised. At that moment, I'm pretty sure the same question was on all of our minds: what would they do with me?


	4. Chapter 3

Sorry for the wait on this chapter, I had to rewrite many passages to do it justice. On the plus side, it is much longer that the previous ones.

Enjoy!

Chapter 3

Harry, Marvin and I moved around a lot. For a while, it felt like every few months we would just pack and go. Another town, another city, they dragged me across states and even crossed the border to Canada a few times. We stayed in more places than I care to remember. They rented houses, bungalows mostly, on the outskirts of towns with no immediate neighbors. We lived in one or two cottages, a renovated farm, and once, a townhouse in New York.

After a while, all these places just seem to blend into one another. The only one I remember clearly, the one I'll probably never forget, is the house they took me back to on that Christmas Eve of 1990. It was an old country house, much bigger than the houses we would inhabit in the years to follow. It stood alone on a propriety that seemed to stretch for miles. There were tall trees shading it from the road and a cedar edge running around the back of the house to a double garage. I counted two chimneys and many large arched windows on the upper floor. It must have been a beautiful house a decade earlier, but it now showed signs of neglect.

Of course, I didn't see much of the house upon arrival. It was well past midnight by then and not a single light lit the driveway or house. It felt like we had driven for hours, but I suppose it hadn't been that long. The rest of the journey had been silent for the most part, but that did nothing to assuage my fears. I was hungry, parched, tired, and cold, not to mention that my shoes and pants were still wet from the Murphy's basement. And I was scared, so scared. Yet somehow, as long as we had been on the road, I had forgotten that I would not be going home. It was only when Harry parked the van into the garage that I began to realize that there was no way out for me. Had it not been for the duct tape, I would have resumed my screaming. However, as Harry and Marvin seemed determined to ignore me for a while longer, I did my best not to attract their attention. Harry was the first to break the awkward silence:

"What do you want to do?

– Get drunk?" came Marvin's terse reply.

"Yeah well, you and me both, Marv. But right now, we have a little bundle of misery to take care of."

I had no difficulty guessing to which "bundle of misery" Harry was referring to. I swallowed hard and twisted my wrists, hoping to loosen Marvin's knots. I had been at it since Marvin had first sat down, but with very limited success. My wrists felt raw and any move from my part sent a fresh wave of pain up my arms, but I was determined.

"Take care of? What exactly do you suggest we do, Harry?

– Hell if I know…

– Listen, can we just… not do this right now? My feet are killing me, my head is about to burst and I'm not even sure I'll be able to walk tomorrow. I can't deal with the brat right now!

– Okay Marv, take it easy. I'll take care of the kid and we can talk things through in the morning.

– What are you going to do?" asked Marvin.

Harry didn't answer right away, thinking hard.

"Storage room; I'll lock him in the storage room. He can't cause trouble down there.

– Yeah, okay…" Marvin opened the door of the van before pausing and turning back to Harry with a warning:

"Just make sure he can't booby trap the storage room."

I did not know my captors much, but it didn't take a genius to figure Harry was the one leading their duo. It was therefore with apprehension that I watched him get out of the van, muttering to himself. To Harry's credit, he was not half as violent as I expected him to be after his rather… colourful threats earlier that evening. He was by no mean gentle, half leading, half pulling me along, but he didn't trip me, he didn't hit me, he didn't even yell at me. It would be one of our most civil interactions for many months to come.

Harry didn't waste a second and led me straight through the back door, into the kitchen to what I saw were stairs leading to the basement. He turned the basement lights on, but what I saw was hardly comforting. Hard cement steps led to what I could see was an unfinished room filled with firewood. Although I had reeled earlier that day upon hearing Marvin imply that I was afraid of the dark, I was still very much afraid of unknown and dark places, and that basement certainly qualified. I refused to take another step further. Not that Harry cared much.

"Walk, if you know what's good for you."

The duct tape kept me from answering, not that it would've made much difference with Harry. Still, I held my ground.

"Okay, kid; here's the deal: either you walk down those stairs, or I push you down."

Harry, always the great negotiator.

To this day, I'm still unsure whether Harry would've made good on his threat. I certainly believe him though, and my reaction was not to his liking. To my shame, I felt my throat contract and tears fill my eyes, which only irked Harry.

"Don't give me that!" he snapped, dragging me behind.

Their basement was much bigger than the one at my house, and mostly empty, except for some tools on a distant shelf and the wood furnace. At the far end of the basement stood the storage room, an impressive looking door equipped with a lock. Just one look was enough to convince me I did not want to be locked in there. I tried to catch Harry's eyes with a pleading look, but he ignored me as he fiddled with the key. No sooner had he opened the door that Harry pushed me inside the pitched black room.

"Get in there and be quiet!"

With my hands still tied, I lost my balance and fell on my side in a muffled scream. But Harry, uncaring bastard that he was, had already closed the door behind me.

And I was left alone.

In the dark.

It was at this point that reality caught up with me. As I lay there, on a cold hard floor, I finally broke down and burst into tears.

I shouldn't have done that.

Living under Harry and Marvin's roof, I was quick to realize that once tears started to fall, there was no stopping them.

Best to avoid them entirely.

What took me much longer to master were my train of thoughts. There are many thoughts I keep locked away in a corner of my mind. Too many thoughts. Mostly of my family, and my life before I crossed the burglars' path. Had I dwelt on them day after day, I never would have survived. Too bad I had to learn that lesson the hard way, starting on that fateful night.

Instead of relaxing my body and concentrating on my bindings, I let my mind summon the faces and voices of my loved ones. I missed them so much, and the more I focussed on them and the memory of our last exchange, the harder I cried.

Problem was, I was still gagged.

I quickly found myself choking on my tears, fighting to catch my breath, only adding to my distress. To make things worse, my mind played tricks on me and I could've sworn there was something in there with me. A childish fear, I know. I am well aware that scary things and people don't hide in the dark. However much I know this, to this day, even after all this time, I still can't stand being locked in the dark.

I will always remember this night as the worst of my life. Many more would follow, but none left their mark as much as that nightmarish Christmas Eve.

My tears eventually ran dry. At some point, I sat down, eyes wide open. I was beyond tired, but I wouldn't sleep and, as the hours passed, I fell into a dazed state.

That's how Marvin found me the next morning when he came to check on me. I watched him warily, sitting in the shadows of the room, as he stood in the doorway, somewhat hesitant to come near me. I suppose his caution was warranted after the events of the previous evening. My traps had been ingenious, original and unexpected. They had served their purpose, which was to protect my house. They had also unfortunately taught Harry and Marvin never to underestimate me again.

I didn't flinch when Marvin turned on the lights to inspect the room. He didn't speak right away and only after making sure there were no nasty surprises waiting for him did he turn his attention to me. Boy was Marvin tall! To my eight-year-old self, he looked nothing short of a giant! And it suddenly occurred to me that I had given that giant every reason to want to hurt me. It worried me for about a second, but I was too exhausted to be afraid.

I watched Marvin frown as he knelt to my level to remove the duct tape. I tried my best to dig deep into my anger and bravado. I wanted to curse at him, spit in his face or, better yet, kick him in the face! The first words to escape my lips were, alas, not half as threatening as I would have liked them to be.

"I wanna go home."

I did not recognize my own voice; it was much too high and weak. I saw Marvin tense up at my words, and he avoided my gaze as he answered:

"Are you thirsty? You want some water?"

At the time, his words made no sense. Didn't he hear me? Growing agitated, I repeated my request:

"I wanna go home."

But again, my words fell on deaf ears.

"How about breakfast?" was Marvin's reply. "You want some toast? Or cereals?"

As casual as his words were, they chilled me to the bone. A part of me understood that he wouldn't answer me because he had no intention of taking me home, but I clung to the belief that this… situation was just temporary. That before the end of the day, I would be back home and would forget this entire episode. I found Marvin's refusal to answer me disturbing to say the least. Without thinking or meaning to, I shouted:

"Take me home!"

Marvin's reaction was so swift I barely had time to finish my sentence. His hand flew to my mouth, slamming the back of my head against the wall behind me, making me yelp in pain. This time, he looked me square in the eyes as he spoke.

"Don't do that."

His tone remained calm, but his face had darkened. The events of the past evening were clearly not forgotten or forgiven.

"Scream again and I'll gag you and leave you down here. Understand?"

I don't think I could have nodded even if I'd wanted to. But if being quiet was what it took to get out of the storage room, then I would be quiet. He removed his hand and I waited a few seconds before voicing my most pressing need:

"I need to go to the washroom."

That request seemed to take Marvin aback.

"Oh, right…"

He pulled me to my feet and, to my surprise, untied my hands without needed to be asked. Marvin then led me back upstairs to a small washroom. I took my time, fearing being sent back to the storage room as soon as I was done, but Marvin made no mention of it. He was surprisingly patient with me, all things considered. After taking in my appearance, he sat me down and cleaned up my wounds, applying some cooling lotion to the raw flesh of my wrists and attending the split-lip I had not even felt until then. I did not protest, remembering how quickly his mood could shift from sympathetic to threatening.

And that was always my problem with Marvin.

Marvin could be nice, he could even be kind. He was the one who brought me treats like candy, chocolate milk or ice cream. To Harry's outrage he also always let me keep my pick of the toys they stole, regardless of their worth, including a Super Nintendo, a PlayStation and a guitar. He taught me how to play and cheat at cards and let me watch movies I definitely shouldn't have with him. I shared my first beer with Marvin and he taught me everything he knew about cars, including how to steal them.

Marvin made it really hard for the child I was to hate him.

But then, whenever I started to let my guard down, when I started to think he wasn't so bad and maybe, just maybe, I could trust him, he would painfully remind me that he was and would always be my enemy.

At least with Harry I always knew where I stood.

I don't think Marvin ever realised how confusing his behavior could be. I could tell he didn't enjoy hurting me, and that my kidnapping didn't sit well with him. I was young, and no matter how much I tried to deny it, scared. Marvin provided me with the protection I craved…To an extent. At the end of the day, if Marvin had to choose between me and him, he would always choose to save himself.

After bandaging my wrists, Marvin took me back to the kitchen and gave me some peanut butter and jam toasts with a glass of milk. It was still early in the morning, not even seven o'clock yet, which makes me now realise how badly Marvin must have slept that night to be up and about so early. He usually sleeps well past nine, unless Harry insists he gets up.

I nibbled absentmindedly on my toasts, careful to keep Marvin in my line of vision. There was no television in the kitchen, but Marvin was listening closely to the news on the radio while drinking some coffee. I did not pay much attention to the radio; I was too tired to listen. I now suppose that Marvin was monitoring the radio for news of my abduction, but it was much too early for that.

It was still dark outside and snow had started to fall. There had clearly been a drop in temperature overnight. The weather, however, was not what I had in mind. Ever so often, when Marvin wasn't watching, I would eye the kitchen door. I never stopped and considered how cold it might be or the fact that I did not have my coat, scarf, mittens or hat. I just wanted to run. Then I spotted something equally interesting: a telephone mounted on the kitchen wall.

I was torn.

The door or the phone?

My preference went to the door, but then I took a second look and saw the triple locks in place. I was tired but not stupid. I knew there was no way I would ever open that door before Marvin caught up with me.

The phone, then.

I looked over at Marvin, but he was still focussed on the news report. Good. I pretended to reach for my glass of milk, but tipped it over instead. Milk spilled all over the table and I jumped back out of my chair. At my sudden movement, Marvin must have expected me to bold for the door, and he threw himself accordingly between me and the exit. He was however quick to notice I had not moved in that direction and seemed unsure of what to do next. Taking advantage of his hesitation, I put on my most guilty looking expression and gasped:

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

Marvin only then seemed to realise what happened and relaxed at my words. I pretended not to notice and took a few steps back, edging ever closer to the phone. Marvin saw nothing. He grabbed a dishcloth, sounding annoyed, but not angry.

"Don't worry about it"

While Marvin was busy wiping the milk from the table, I made my way to the phone, careful not to draw his attention. I knew I didn't have much time, but just as I lifted my hand to the phone, I heard a second pair of footsteps and turned in time to see Harry walk into the kitchen. We both froze and glared at one another. Harry did not look good. His eyes were drawn and red. His head was blistered and was painful to look at. Although he had bandaged his injured hand, I could see it was swollen and that he had difficulty bending his fingers. In other words, I was probably the last person Harry wanted to see first thing in the morning.

"What the hell is _he_ doing up here, Marv?" he growled with all the vehemence of his grudge.

"He was hungry" explained Marvin, unfazed. "I made him breakfast.

˗ You made him breakfast? What are you, his maid, now?

\- What was I supposed to do? Let the kid do it? See how long it takes him to get his hands on a couple of kitchen knives? Bet he could come up with all kinds of fun surprises with those.

– As far as I'm concerned, he can starve, for all I care."

Harry looked at me as he spoke those last words, but I was too furious to see my attempt at calling the police foiled by his arrival to be afraid. I think I heard Marvin whisper something that sounded suspiciously like "bullshit", but he quickly added:

"Just sit down and have some coffee, Harry."

Harry shot daggers at me before turning his attention to his coffee. I made no move to sit back at the table with them and neither of them noticed how close I was to the phone. It was risky with both of them in the room, but I still hoped to get my hands on that phone.

"He's eaten; take him back downstairs, Marv. We need to talk.

– I don't want to go downstairs, I want to go home!" came my angry retort.

"Shut up, kid!" yelled back Harry.

He clearly regretted his outburst as I saw him wince.

"Harry, don't _scream_ …" moaned Marvin, massaging his temple with one hand.

"Why did you have to bring him up here anyway? What if someone comes over, huh? Did you think of that?

– Come over? When was the last time anyone came all the way out here?

– You never know, Marv. What if someone hears the kid?

– Like who? The neighbors? I'm not even sure we have neighbors. Will you just chill, we're miles out of town, what exactly do you expect him to do?"

And then the phone rang.

For a split second, the three of us just stood there, stark still. Had I not been so alarmed, I might have been amused by Harry and Marvin's shocked expression followed by the flash of panic in their eyes as they realised where I stood. And then, everything happened all at once. I heard the sound of their chairs scrape against the floor behind me as they scrambled to their feet. But they were too far and I had already grabbed the phone receiver. I lifted the phone and opened my mouth as something came flying at my head, missing me by a hair's breath, only to crash against the wall next to me. Glass flew in all directions and I felt some shards graze my cheek, making me duck and cover in fright. Suddenly, I was lifted off the ground and the phone was ripped from my hands.

"No!"

But my protest was cut short by Marvin who clamped my mouth shut and carried me out into the next room. I heard Harry laugh nervously:

"Sorry about that, damn dog always gets caught in the telephone cord."

I remember being infuriated by these words. I turned my head every way and clawed at Marvin's hand while beating the air with my legs. Considering my level of exhaustion, I couldn't keep this up very long and my body soon gave up. Angry tears burned my eyes and rolled down my cheeks.

"Shh, calm down. It's okay, just calm down." whispered Marvin without loosening his hold.

His words only made me sob harder. Harry was not on the phone very long. When he joined us in the living room, his eyes could've bore a hole in my head. I saw no pity or remorse in them, just a burning fury.

"Get him downstairs. That was work, we gotta go." was all he said.

"What, you want to go _now_?

– We're a twenty-four-hour service, Marv. It's Christmas day, so we get paid emergency fees, plus holiday fees. That's nearly a thousand buck, it would look real suspicious if we didn't go.

– And us, walking around looking the way we do, that's not going to look suspicious?

– We can cover most of it up. Anybody asks, we got into a car accident.

– Car accident… makes sense. But we'll have to unload the van first." Marvin pointed out.

Harry cursed loudly at that, making me jump.

"I'd forgotten about the goods! I'll… handle the van, just take care of the kid."

On that note, Harry turned around without a backward glance. Marvin didn't argue. He simply took a deep breath and shifted his grip on me.

"Okay, kid; let's go."

The prospect of being locked in that storage room gave me a new, but short-lived burst of energy. Marvin was ready for me this time and, fight as I might, it didn't change the outcome of that day. I suppose I should've been grateful he didn't see fit to tie me up or gag me again, but it took me a while to learn to appreciate these simplest gestures. All I knew was that I was once more locked in the dark.

Alone

For hours.

I pounded my fists against that door until I couldn't feel my hands anymore and screamed myself hoarse, to no avail. Marvin wasn't kidding when he said we were miles out of town. Eventually, I gave up and quiet down. And that's when I recalled Harry's words.

It was Christmas day.

It was Christmas day, and here I was… As silly as it might sound, that was the moment I stopped believing in Santa Claus.


	5. Chapter 4

_Hello again! Thank you all for your great reviews, I am really enjoying writing this story and I hope you like it as well!_

 _As Anon pointed it out in his comment, yes Harry and Marvin are plumbers/handymen in my story. I've been doing some research on burglars and both of them being handymen makes so much sense!_

 _First of all, no burglars, no matter how talented, could survive on robbing houses only. Robbing houses is usually just a side line, as most burglars' main income comes from their legal employment. In Home Alone, besides the McCallister's house, all the other houses in their neighborhood seemed very middle class and did not scream out rich, which leads me to believe Harry and Marvin must have another source of income._

 _Now, here's where it gets interesting. Handymen such as plumbers, electricians, etc. are notoriously well placed to become burglars. People just invite them into their home, which gives the future burglar all kinds of important detail such as the general layout of the house, time to spot and identity security systems, assess the general worth of owner's possessions, confirm whether the owner has a dog, what kind, how friendly it is, etc. I think this suits Harry and Marvin's profile very well given that's very close to what Harry was doing dressed up as a cop in the first installment._

 _Finally, I also found out most burglars did not break into houses out of financial necessity, but out of habit or for the mere challenge._

 _And now, on with the story!_

Chapter 4

Like it or not, I spent a lot of time in that storage room. After the phone incident, Harry's reaction was to insist I be locked up down there all the time. One would think I would have gotten used to it after a few days.

I never did.

I simply could not and would not let myself fall asleep when I was locked in there, even after they provided me with a cot, some warm blankets and pillows. I would just sit in the dark and wait. Sometimes I wondered what my family was doing, if they missed me as much as I missed them, but I was already learning to avoid these thoughts. I only slept when I passed out from sheer exhaustion, and that hardly counted as sleep. I would soon awake in a start and resume my silent vigil. Marvin was the first to worry about what being left alone in that room did to me. If Harry shared his concerns, he didn't say anything, at least not in front of me.

Then, one day, as Harry was about to walk me back to my prison after a quick shower, the question just slipped:

"What's going to happen to me?"

That question had been on my mind for a while now. Of course, what I really meant to ask was when would I be going home, but since Harry and Marvin ignored the question whenever it came up, I settled for this new one.

It was no secret that Harry did not like questions. As a rule, he always acted like answering any of my questions was beneath him or something. That day was no exception.

" Shut up, kid!"

For the longest time, this simple sentence, those three words, seemed to be Harry's theme song. I heard it so often it lost all meaning.

"Are you going to keep me in the storage room forever?" I asked in a dispirited voice.

I'm not sure what it was, my words, my tone or my gaze, but something made Harry pause and look at me. It wasn't his usual impatient look but a long hard one. I could see the wheels in his mind turning as he studied me carefully. Narrowing his eyes in thought, he finally pointed to the living room:

"Go watch cartoons or something. And behave!"

I could hardly believe my luck! I knew Harry would be watching me while working on an inventory of some sort, but anything was better than being sent back to the storage room. I certainly wasn't complaining!

I don't think Harry had quite figured out what they would do with me. It would take him a few more years to find a place for me in their scheming. On that day, I think he just came to term with the fact that I wasn't going anywhere. If my presence was to be a permanent addition to their lives, then me being locked 24/7 in the storage room would not do.

Unlike Marvin, Harry was never kind.

He was clever.

Of course, I couldn't see it back then. I was just glad to have something to do besides sitting alone in the dark. The Christmas holidays were nearly over, but I didn't have much trouble finding some DuckTale cartoon. I didn't see much of the episode, though. Before I knew it, for the first time since my arrival at the burglars' house, I was fast asleep. I was so tired I could not recall a single dream, which was probably for the best.

And so began my new routine. Since I couldn't and wouldn't sleep in the storage room, they would let me "watch T.V." in the living room where I would proceed to fall asleep. I would usually sleep from early in the morning until mid-afternoon, depending on Harry and Marvin's schedule. I found the sound of the television soothing after the silence of the storage room. It would lull me to sleep no matter what was on; it really didn't matter. Neither Harry not Marvin objected to this new arrangement. They still kept a close watch on me, but I think my strange sleeping pattern led them to relax their watch, which is how I ended up seeing something they were well aware of, but were determine to keep away from me: my family.

That day, I was asleep as usual on the couch when something woke me up. A sound, no a voice, had pulled me out of my dream. I opened my eyes and instantly found the television screen, and there they were: my parents. They were at some sort of conference with what looked like the chief of police.

My dad was the one talking while holding my mother's hand, but I was so mesmerized by their appearance that I could not make out a word he said. Slowly, I got up and sat directly in from of the screen. My heart was beating wildly and I pressed my palm against the screen. It wasn't enough. I wanted to shout, run to them, hold on and never let go. My mother wasn't looking at the camera. She looked pale and shaken. I had never seen her looking this way. It felt wrong.

"Kevin was at the wrong place at the wrong time. We are sure whoever took him mean him not harm. We just want our son back.

– Mr. McCallister, is it true that the police department failed to act upon learning that your son was on his own?" asked an unseen reporter.

"I am sure the police are doing everything in their power to find Kevin. Pointing fingers will not help bring our son home.

My dad kept his calm, but I could hear the anger in his undertone as he and my mother refused to look at the chief of police.

"Will you be suing the police department for negligence?" insisted another reporter.

The chief of police chose this moment to intervene:

"Now folks, we should really stay focussed on the problem at hand. Let us do our job and return little Kevin to his family safe and sound. That is our primary concern.

– It is true that his kidnapping may be linked to a series of burglaries that have been plaguing the area for the past months?

– Until further evidence can be processed, we have not reason to believe-

– It doesn't matter" my mother abruptly cut off the chief of police.

She raised her head and looked directly into the camera as she spoke.

"We do not care about any burglars, thieves, breaking and entering. We just want our son back. If it's money you want, we'll pay."

The chief of police looked alarmed at my mother's words. He raised his hand and tried to interrupt her.

"What Mrs. McCallister means to say is-"

But my mother would have none of it and ignored his attempt at changing the subject.

"We'll pay whatever you want, no question asked; just give us our son back."

There was steel in her voice as she said this and, for a second, I imagined with glee what my mother would do to Harry and Marvin if she ever met them face to face.

My mother's declaration sent the reporters into a frenzy, questions erupted from all side. The conference then cut back to the network reporter. My picture appeared on the screen as a journalist intoned:

"Eight-years-old Kevin McCallister has been missing for over two weeks now after a violent break-in into his family home in Winnetka, Illinois. His family is offering a substantial reward to anyone with information that would lead to the boy's location."

The reporter kept talking, but I wasn't paying attention anymore. My parents, my family, they were back! They had not disappeared from the surface of the Earth. They were back and they were looking for me!

My desperate need to escape resurfaced in full force. I wanted to cry and wail in frustration, but I didn't. I knew what I wanted; I just had to figure out how I would make it happen. I needed an escape plan.

"What are you doing?"

Startled, I turned around to see that Marvin had walked into the living room. His tone was sharp and I could tell he was not pleased at finding me captivated by the news report. Luckily, my abduction was no longer the main topic as a journalist was covering the story of a cop slaying.

I removed my hand from the television screen.

"The news woke me up."

Which was true, or at least partially true. Marvin wasn't fooled, but since I didn't say anything, he didn't push the subject.

"You're too young to worry about the news" he said while switching the channel to Nickelodeon. "And don't sit so close to the T.V., you'll hurt your eyes."

I returned to the couch and pretended to listen to some cartoon while savoring the memory of my parents. Once in a while, I would look over at Marvin, wondering. I had just heard my mother claim my father and her would pay to have me back. Harry and Marvin were thieves. Thieves liked money, right? Did they know about my mother's offer? Hope flared. If they knew about the money, they might let me go home! If they wanted money…

"Why do you steal?"

I don't know where that question came from. I certainly never would have dared ask Harry, but Marvin somehow always made it feel all right to ask questions. That day, he did not raise his eyes from the classified he was examining, but I saw him smile.

"Old habits die hard" was his answer.

I frowned. His answer was not exactly what I was expecting. It wasn't a reason, really. I remembered how it felt to steal that toothbrush. It didn't feel good. I still felt guilty about it, worried that, somehow, my mother would find out. And I didn't even mean to steal it!

"Stealing is wrong", I stated with all the wisdom of my eight years of life.

"Yes, stealing is very, very wrong", agreed Marvin with a knowing smile. "But it's also very, very easy."

I saw Marvin's smile vanish after glancing my way.

"Most of the time, anyway."

Marvin returned to his classified, probably hoping I would drop the subject. I didn't. Pointing at the television, I asked:

"Did you steal the T.V.?

– No.

– Did you steal the V.C.R.?

– No, that's Harry's.

– How about the stereo?

– Listen, kid; we don't keep any of the stuff. We just sell it.

– Oh."

Until this revelation, I had never given much thought to what they did with all their stolen goods. I had assumed they were just stealing what they did not already own. Far from shutting me up, his answer opened a whole new world of questions.

"To who?

– What?

– Who do you sell it to?"

Marvin sighed impatiently and hid behind his newspaper.

"Ask Harry, he takes care of the sales."

We both knew I would not be pestering Harry with these questions. No sooner had Marvin spoken these words that I was disheartened to see the man himself walk into the living room.

"Ask me what? And, Marv, we got a watch that's not keeping time.

– Which one? One of the Rolexes, again?

– You know I can fix the Rolexes, this one's a Cartier. Ask me what?

– I'll take a look at it", said Marvin, taking a delicate looking watch from Harry. "It's the kid; he wants to know who our buyers are."

Harry eyed me suspiciously before turning back to Marvin.

"What for?"

Marvin shrugged while examining the watch.

"Curiosity, I guess. See this, kid?" said Marvin dangling the watch in his hand. "Original Cartier, worth three grands. We can sell it for $800 to $1,500, depending on who's buying" he explained, grinning. "And Harry always has a knack for finding us nice buyers, right Harry?"

I couldn't help looking at the watch. It reminded me of one of my mom's, but I knew it wasn't; they never had time to rob our house. That watch belonged to someone else.

"Who buys stolen stuff anyway?" I scowled.

Both Harry and Marvin smiled at that.

"Everybody does" informed me Harry.

– That's not true!" I argued, my frown deepening.

Marvin threw his newspaper to the side and leaned over to me.

"Sure it is. We've sold some fishing rods to high school teachers, diamond earrings to a guy who works in the mayor's office, a Rolex to a nice garbage man, more T.V. than I can count all around town oh and, Harry, remind me who bought all that camping equipment the other day?"

Harry had not moved and was looking from Marvin to me with a thoughtful expression.

"The cop did" he finally confirmed.

I gasped at that last one.

"A cop?

– Sure. He's a good client, right Harry?

– Very good" agreed Harry. "Sold him and his friends a couple of rifles. He even left us a list of items he would be interested in, as a reference."

That left me speechless.

" But… He's a cop?"

My mind simply could not grasp that concept. How could a policeman let thieves run free? Worse yet, buy from them? I was familiar with crooked cops in movies and television shows, but in my innocence, I never thought there might be some so close to home in Chicago. Crooked cops had to be the exception!

Turns out, it wasn't.

As I said, I learned loads of stuff at Harry and Marvin's side, and that conversation was just a stepping-stone. I think Marvin found my ignorance highly amusing and delighted in enlighten me. As for Harry, I was surprise at how accommodating he was; he usually mocked Marvin for being too soft on me, but on that day, he sat down, watching.

"If you're selling, there's always someone buying" declared Marvin.

"But they don't know it's stolen", I tried to reassure myself.

– Sure they do; No one buys firearms, jewellery or electronics off the streets without knowing what they're buying. No one asks, but they all know. Food for thoughts, kid." he said, winking at me.

Food for thoughts, indeed. I fell silent for a moment, going over what Marvin had just said. Again, I was reminded of the toothbrush.

"And… you don't feel bad about it?

– Feel bad about it? It's just stuff; people can always buy more, right Harry?

– That's what keeps the economy rolling", nodded Harry from his seat.

"Besides, if they make it easy enough for us to break in, they deserve to get robbed", added Marvin in a laugh.

I didn't understand what Harry meant by the economy, so I let it go and I suppose Marvin was not wrong when he claimed people could replace whatever they stole. Except…

"What about me? My family didn't deserve to get robbed."

Suddenly, Marvin was no longer amused by my questions. His expression hardened and he looked at me funny, with a mix of anger and… something else. As for Harry, I saw him smirk, but he didn't say a word, which now leads me to believe they had already had this conversation.

"Your family?" spat Marvin "What a piece of work they are!"

Taken aback, I glared angrily at Marvin. I didn't quite catch his meaning, but I could tell by his sneer it wasn't nice.

"You think your family, your parents, didn't deserve to get robbed? Please! They deserved it more than anyone. Of all the people we ever robbed, they must be the stupidest of the lot.

– My parents aren't stupid!

– Oh really? Only the stupidest, careless of bastards would do what they did.

– Don't talk that way about my parents!

– Marv…"

There was a warning in Harry's voice, but Marvin wasn't listening as he paused to look at me.

"You don't get it, do you, kid?" he asked in quiet disbelief. "They _left_ you."

Marvin's words finally hit home and I faltered. There was what I can only identify as pity in his eyes as he considered me. Pity laced with anger that I now understand was not directed at me.

"Your parents left you, or maybe they forgot you, I can't tell which is worst. Some parents get crucified for leaving kids older than you home alone to run errands, go for a couple of drinks or whatever. Your parents left the country, no wait, the fucking _continent_! They deserve what they got and worst. How many brothers and sisters you got? Yet they forget _you_. They _all_ did. Just goes to show you how much they care."

I can't express how much hearing those words hurt.

They were cruel.

They were devastating.

But worst of all, they were true.

I had been so busy enjoying my great alone time adventures, I did not stop and think what it meant. Not even after being captured did I doubt my family. It took Marvin to open my eyes to the cold hard truth.

I hated him for that.

Hating Marvin was easier than admitting that, deep down, I never really forgave my family for abandoning me.

I felt a lump in my throat and a fresh wave of tears rise to my eyes. I didn't want to cry. I didn't want him to know he had gotten to me. I jumped to my feet, clenching my fists.

"You're lying! My parents care! They want me back! I saw them, I heard them!"

My words betrayed me and I saw Harry shoot a dirty look at Marvin, but he ignored his partner, his attention resting on me.

" _I_ 'm lying? Oh kid, if they really cared, they would've come back for you. How many days were you all alone in that house? Travelling to Paris doesn't take that long, you know."

I found myself rooted on the spot by those words, overcome with pain, anger and confusion. I couldn't bring myself to look at either of them and, for the life of me, could not come up with one decent answer or excuse. When I didn't say anything, Marvin asked, almost gently:

"Did they even call, just once, to check on you?"

Marvin's question had an awful ring of truth, no matter how much I wanted to deny it. Why didn't they come back for me? Did it really take them that long to realise I had been left behind? And why didn't they call? My uncle Robert called Heather and my dad all the time, so why didn't they? I tried to hold on to the image of my parents as I saw them on the news, tried to believe in their words, but Marvin had planted the seeds of doubt.

"You're just saying that cause you're mean!" I shouted, more trying to convince myself than Marvin.

I tried to be brave, I really did, but I could not hold back my tears.

"Believe me, kid; Harry and I are the lesser of many evils."

Marvin was right, as I would eventually find out; but that statement went way over my head. I held on to the fact that _they_ were keeping me from my family, that _they_ were thieves, and that all of this was _their_ fault. Both out of anger and sorrow, I launched myself at Marvin, screaming:

"I hate you!"

Marvin must have seen it coming; he didn't even rise from his chair and showed no surprise. He grabbed both of my wrists effortlessly, and held me at bay without hurting me. Harry had jumped out of his chair, but Marvin waved him away.

"Harry and I aren't the bad guys, kid. Your parents are." he patiently stated.

"You're lying, and I hate you!"

Had Marvin lost his temper, screamed back at me or slapped me, I might have been able to dismiss his arguments, but he didn't. Through my tears, I could see he actually seemed sorry for me.

"I'm not lying, kid; and sooner or later, you're going to see that."

Marvin then let go of my wrists and pushed me back. I tripped and fell, not hard enough to hurt myself, but I stayed down and didn't get up, crying.

Behind me, I heard Harry curse softly.

"I take it he saw some news report."

Marvin shrugged.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later.

– You sure handled it.

– Let it go, Harry. The kid needed a reality check."

I never forgot Marvin's words. They haunted me for years, and still do. No matter how much I turned them around and looked them over, I know he had a point. For the longest time, I pretended they didn't mean anything. I came up with excuses upon excuses to explain the mystery of those days I was left home alone. None of them really added up, and no matter how much I tried to ignore the multitude of holes in my theories, the truth tore my heart.

It might have been easier to forget all about it had Marvin just spoken out of spite. As it turns out, he believed every word he said that day. Whenever I mentioned my parents afterwards, he would get this look, a mix of anger and disgust that disturbed me. Here was a thief, a man I regarded as a bad guy, showing nothing but contempt at the mere mention of my loved ones; what exactly did it say about my family? Eventually, I stopped mentioning them altogether.

I still wanted to go home and had every intention of running at the first opportunity, but intentionally or not, Marvin had changed the game. On that day, of the three of us, Harry is the one who saw, listened and understood this. In time, with patience, he would reap the reward of my doubts.


	6. Chapter 5

_Hello everyone!_

 _I am very happy to present my latest chapter. No going to lie, this was hard to write, so I hope you enjoy! I have so many ideas for this story; I can't wait for the upcoming chapters. Some of them are already written; I couldn't wait or wanted to risk forgetting anything._

 _Enjoy!_

Chapter 5

I needed to get out of that house. I needed to run. I needed to get away, and not just to escape Harry and Marvin and return home; I was going insane trapped in that house day after day. My access to the house was limited to the kitchen, the living room, washrooms, and the basement, which I avoided at all costs. I was never allowed upstairs, let alone in the attic.

Television was nice, but only over the weekends. Now that the holidays were over, my choice of programming had been seriously reduced; there were only shows for babies and soap operas in the afternoon. Needless to say, I lost interest very quickly.

I got chatty, I got bored and heaven helped Harry and Marvin when I got bored! Harry was threatening every minute or so to lock me up in the storage room if I didn't shut up, but even that wasn't enough to make me hold still for long. And god knows they both preferred when I held still, which was way too much to ask and expect of any eight-year-old.

I needed to run.

Literally.

The only thing I was missing was an opportunity, until, one day, it presented itself in the most unexpected way.

That day, Marvin had been called over for some job in town, and I was left alone with Harry. This arrangement did not suit either one of us. I had seen Harry flip a coin with Marvin for the job. He had lost. Harry was a sore loser. As Marvin walked out the door that morning, I think both Harry and I equally envied him.

The hours just felt like they were dragging on. Harry was polishing off the engravings on some jewelry, and the sound of metal upon metal made me cringe. I was pretending to be working on some puzzle where he could keep an eye on me, but I had already made that puzzle a dozen times and I really didn't feel like it anymore. I missed my toys. It was safe to miss my toys, the sort of thing I wouldn't cry over, even if I fixated on them. Marvin had brought me some coloured pencils and made sure I had all the paper I wanted, but that could only keep me busy for so long. I missed my micro machines. The memory of their last use brought a sheepish grin to my face as I looked over at Harry. It would be very long before they would let me get my hands on anything resembling a toy car.

I sighed and looked out the window. There was what looked like a decent hill in the distance and I wish I could go for a couple of slides. After a long internal debate, I worked up to the courage to ask Harry:

"You wanna go outside?"

I didn't have much hope, especially given that this was Harry I was dealing with, but I still gave it a try.

"Shut up, kid. I'm busy", was his predictable answer.

" I'm bored. I wanna go outside.

– Shut-" Harry interrupted himself and took a deep breath before answering, an impatient edge to his voice. "You can't go outside, and you know it. You don't have a coat, and we're in the middle of winter."

That was not the true reason he wouldn't let me go outside, and we both knew it. The coat was just an excuse. A few weeks earlier, Harry had returned from one of his "business meetings", which I came to understand was his way of referring to his selling of stolen merchandise, with some clothes for me. They were not of the same quality as the clothes my parents usually bought me, and I could tell they came from a thrift store, but they were clean, comfortable, and mostly fit. Harry had, however, conveniently "forgotten" to get a winter coat for me. Too suspicious he claimed. Nobody bought a winter coat for their kid at the end of January. If he actually believed that would be enough to deter a child from going outside, Harry didn't understand their way of thinking, or at least not mine.

I took another look outside; the sun looked warm and inviting, a fresh coat of snow was covering the trees. There was no wind and I could see some squirrel chasing each other on the garage's roof. It didn't look that cold.

"I could put on an extra sweater. I'd be fine.

– You'll catch your death."

Shaking his head, I heard Harry muttering:

"Which would save us the trouble.

– Does that mean I can go outside?

– No!" yelled Harry, slamming his fist on the table. "One more word, just one, and I'll lock you in that storage room till morning. We clear?"

With a heavy sigh, I turned back to my puzzle. My heart was no more into it than my mind. Out of boredom, I watched Harry as he worked. I'll give Harry that, his work was always masterful. He clearly knew what he was doing; no matter how small the engravings were or the jewel he was working on, he would select the appropriate sending band, taking care not to remain on the same spot with his power tool for too long. Once the engraving had disappeared, he would remove any mark left on the metal with a polishing wheel and a chemical that left the metal shiny and smooth. I reached for a golden bracelet he had just finished, and ran my finger against the metal. I tried to find or feel the missing letters, but they were gone. It was now impossible to tell what it had said.

"Put it back", ordered Harry without taking his eyes from the piece he was now working on.

"Can I try?"

I did not know what I was asking, I was just bored. As usual, I was expecting Harry's harsh response. Instead, I saw him pause and actually ponder my request. I held my breath, the puzzle forgotten.

"Not today, kid" did he finally answer. "These are too delicate and expensive for you to mess up. I'll find you something to practice on, if you behave."

I sighed once again. So close, and yet so far. I would eventually become almost as skilled as Harry and Marvin at removing engravings, but all in good times.

I spent the rest of the afternoon mournfully watching the sun slowly make way to a dark evening sky. Once in a while, I would catch Harry watching me with that thoughtful expression I could not interpret. Whenever I asked about it, the only answer I got was his familiar:

"Shut up, kid!"

Eventually, I stopped worrying about it. It was around five when Harry put his tools away and got up to get started on dinner.

Harry took care of the cooking. Marvin's talents in the kitchen were rather limited. He could manage breakfast, sandwiches or anything canned or frozen, but that was almost it. His greatest achievement had been to master the art of cooking eggs; sunny side up, scrambled, hard boiled, omelette, fried, eggs in a basket, egg salad, egg sandwich, he could do it all, but as there was a limit to how many eggs we could eat in a week, Harry handled most of the cooking.

Although I would never say that his cooking compared to my mother's, his could be pretty tasty. His specialty was lasagna, but I had a soft spot for his stuffed rice balls. He also cooked a lot of veal, which my mother never used to do, so I did not feel guilty enjoying those dishes. Until I met Harry, I had never had homemade pizza which, I realized, had very little in common with what my family ordered from Little Nero's. If only I had not made the mistake of mentioning I only liked cheese pizza.

One thing I soon realised was that although Harry was a good cook, he was not a patient one. When he told me to eat something, I had better listen, or would go hungry. Harry's methods might have been questionable, but they effectively cured the fussy eater I used to be. Amazing as my mother's cooking was, she never would have been able to make me eat pizza topped with zucchini, eggs and spinach. Or anything with spinach, come to think of it.

"What's for dinner?

– Tagliatelle con salsiccia e porcini. "

Harry's Italian roots always became more apparent when he cooked, though I was too young to recognize the language.

"What's that?"

Harry rolled his eyes, muttering what I can only assume were Italian curses.

"Pasta with sausages and mushrooms.

– I don't like mushrooms.

– Then I guess you'll starve", snapped Harry, handing me his toolbox. "Make yourself useful, and go put these away in the basement. Bring back some tomato paste from the storage room, while you're at it."

At the mere mention of the storage room, I froze. Harry should've known better. He knew I never ventured in the basement on my own accord. So I didn't move. It took Harry a good minute to notice my lack of compliance.

"What the hell are you playing at, kid? When I ask you something, I mean today!"

I was treading on dangerous ground, but did not see it. I had yet to learn not to try Harry's patience, especially when Marvin was not around to defuse the situation. I shook my head.

"I don't wanna go in the storage room.

– Name of- Just go down there!"

I was not deaf, I could hear his annoyance bordering on anger, but in my childish reasoning, this could only mean one thing: getting locked in the storage room. Even sillier was my belief that being locked in that room was the worst thing Harry could do to me.

"No! You'll lock me in, I know it!"

Harry had never been one to argue with me. Without another word, he reached over and backhanded me hard across the face, making me fall off my chair.

"Now you listen, you spoiled brat, when I tell you to do something, you do it!" spat Harry, standing above me.

I was too caught up by surprise to even scream, or pay attention to his words. I looked up to Harry in shock. No one had ever hit me before; No one, not my mom, not my dad, not even my brothers. I had never been so much as spanked, let alone slapped across the face! I always assumed Harry was the one who had knocked me out at the Murphy's, but somehow this was different, much more vicious. My cheek went blissfully numb for a few seconds followed by a searing pain.

Ignoring my shock, Harry reached down for me and lifted me to my feet by the back of my sweatshirt. He then grabbed a handful of my hair, and pulled my head back, making me gasp in alarm, so that I would look him in the eyes as he spoke.

"You have two minutes to take these downstairs and bring back tomato paste just as I asked. If you're not back in two minutes, there'll be hell to pay."

Harry then released me and shoved the toolbox into my arms. I was still too shaken by what had just happened, and dropped the whole thing to the ground.

"Son of a-", hissed Harry.

I recoiled in fear, but not fast enough to escape Harry's grip around my arm. With his other hand, Harry grabbed the toolbox and dragged me to the basement. Remembering his earlier threats of pushing me down those stairs, I dug in my heels and tried to twist my arm free.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!

– You will be if you don't stop struggling."

It never ceases to amaze me how fast I learned to heed Harry's warning. On that day, he didn't push me down the stairs, nor would he ever, but I had no way of knowing that. His tone was all the warning I needed to stop struggling.

"That's more like it", smirked Harry.

With a jerk, he pulled me alongside him all the way to the storage room. Never letting go of my arm, Harry then turned to me:

"Listen carefully, kid, cause I'll only say this once: I'm not your parents."

That he had the gall to bring up my parents at that moment roused my anger.

"No kidding", did I bite back.

This cheek earned me a cuff upside the head that made me cry out. I felt Harry's fingers dig into my arm.

"I'm not your parents, kid; I'm not one of your teachers, or neighbors. I am _not_ a nice guy, and I won't cuddle you like Marv does. You will listen. You will obey. You don't _ever_ talk back to me. And just so we're clear…"

Harry brought his right palm to my eye level. The crimson "M" permanently burned in his flesh stared back at me, making me shudder.

"Don't ever think, not for a second, that I've forgotten to who I owe this little souvenir. So believe me when I say I won't mind hurting you."

Oh, I believed him all right. From that day on, I never doubted Harry's violent streak again, and was careful to stay out of his reach whenever possible.

Satisfied he had made his point, Harry released my arm and watched me with unconcealed amusement as I took several steps back, massaging my arm. Harry scared me in a way Marvin never did or could. But he also made me angry. I lowered my eyes so he wouldn't see the fury shining there.

"Oh, and feel free to go and cry over to Marv all you want, see if he cares", said Harry with a mocking smile.

Confident in his own superiority, he turned away from me to grab some tomato paste off the shelves, and that's all it took. One second, and I was out of there. I did not hesitate, I didn't even think about it. I slammed the door of the storage room behind me, giving the key a turn in the lock. At the same moment, a loud thud I can only assume was Harry throwing his entire weight against the door was heard. The doorknob rattled and I took the key out of the lock as a precaution as Harry violently pounded the door with his fists. His enraged screams and threats filled the basement, and I eyed the door nervously, hoping it would hold.

My heart was beating so hard, it almost drowned out Harry's yells in my ears and I shook violently, hardly believing what I had just done. I felt a smile born out of awe and terror stretch my face in a painful grin. This would be one of my rare moments of victory over Harry, and regardless of how much he would make me pay later, he could never take it away from me.

I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream in victory.

I ran.

Up the stairs, into the kitchen. Harry and Marvin had long since removed the phone from the kitchen wall, but I knew there was one on the second floor where I was never allowed. I could still hear Harry's pounding, and that only stressed the urgency of my situation.

I raced upstairs, taking them two at the time. I had no idea in which room the phone would be, and entered the first one at random. It was one of their bedrooms. Harry or Marvin's, I did not take the time to investigate. My eyes scanned the night table and the dresser, but I did not see any phone. I could not afford to waste time and moved on to the next door, which was locked. An anxious cry escaped my lips. I tried all the remaining doors, but I could just tell the telephone was locked behind that door, beyond my reach. The sort of precaution Harry would have taken in case I ever escaped their supervision.

I returned to the locked door, determined to make sure it was really locked and not stuck, when I heard the front door open and turned to watch in horror as Marvin walked in. I stood still, hiding in the shadows, holding my breath. Had Marvin looked up the staircase, he would have discovered me for sure.

Slowly, I retreated further down the corridor, watching as Marvin took off his coat and his boots. Harry's frantic pounding could dimly be heard, but he did not seem overly concerned at first.

"Harry? Damn it, did you lock the kid up again? You know that only makes it worst!"

Marvin put his coat away, still oblivious to the situation, and turned on the television in the living room.

"So what did he do this time?" he asked, idly sitting on the couch.

When no answer came, Marvin finally seemed to realise something was wrong.

"Harry?"

He waited a few more seconds before getting up and walking to the back of the house into the kitchen. I did not have much time until he figured out what had happened. As silently as possible, I made my way downstairs, thankful for the carpet that muffled the sound of my shoes.

"Harry, are you down there?" fretfully called Marvin.

I bit my lips, and clenched my fists to keep them from shaking. I then heard Marvin curse loudly as he raced down to the basement.

And that was my cue to run.

My entire being wanted to rush to the door, but I fought this instinct, fearful that the sound of my steps would give me away. I quickly made my way to the door, stepped into the cold air of the night and carefully closed the door behind me. Only then did I run.

I jumped off the steps of the porch and ran down the driveway without a backward glance. How long would it take Marvin to get Harry out of the storage room, I wondered. What had I done with the key? For the life of me, I could not recall. I quickly dismissed the question, it didn't matter I did not have a second to waste.

I sprinted to the main road and hesitated, trying to remember which way Harry had come from when he first drove to the house. I had hoped to see the lights of a passing car, or of another house, but the road was empty. There was nothing but snowy fields surrendered by dark woods all around. I took a chance and ran to the left. The road curved out of sight not too far down and I hoped to evade Harry and Marvin whenever they turned their search outside. With that thought in mind, I ran as fast as I could. The plow had not been to this side of town yet, and the fresh snow I had so admired that afternoon now slowed me down. I was forced to keep to the car tracks in the middle of the road. I didn't like it. I felt far too exposed, but I focused all my energy on putting as much distance as possible between that house and me.

I ran, and ran until it felt like my chest was going to burst, forcing me to stop to catch my breath. Even then, I kept on walking, kept on moving. The night was much colder than I had anticipated, and I soon found myself shivering. The air stung my lungs, making me gasp for each breath. As long as I had been running, I had not felt the wind, but it now blew in my face, and through my clothes.

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure the road was still clear, and I could not help but recall Harry's words, advising me that I would catch my death out here. I swallowed with some difficulty, and wrapped my arms around myself, trying to keep warm. Once again, I scanned the horizon, hoping to spot a house, or an incoming car, but no such luck.

To give myself courage, and forget the icy darkness that surrounded me, I focussed on the memory of my mother. I had no idea how far I was from home, but I imagined myself walking up Lincoln Avenue. I broke into a light jog. I had hoped to come across an intersection, or a main road, but the dark street kept on going. I did, however, come across a small country bridge overlooking a creek. I could not see the water from the road, but I could faintly hear it running. In the middle of February? No, wait, that sound did not come from the creek below! I turned around in panic, and saw headlights behind me. I faintly prayed for the headlights to belong to a car, but there was no mistaken it, they belonged to a van. A much too familiar van. And a speeding one at that!

I knew I was screwed the moment I saw those headlights. There was no way I could outrun a car, but that didn't stop me from trying. This time, I let my instincts kick-in and sprinted the rest of the way across the bridge. I was not sure whoever was driving had seen me, but I had to get off the road. As soon as I had reached the other side, I jumped, and climbed the snow bank. There was a slope leading to the creek, but in the dark, I misjudged how steep it was, and lost my footing. Suddenly, the world spun out of control around me as I fell, headfirst. I tried to hold on to something, anything, and then my fall came to an abrupt stop, and there was nothing but pain.

I groaned, momentarily disoriented. My head was throbbing and my forehead felt warm. The pain in my head, however, was nothing compared to the one in my right forearm. With my good arm, I pushed myself into a sitting position. I looked down at my injury, but in the dark, I could not see a thing. I tried to move my fingers, and winced in pain. This was bad. But I couldn't worry about that now. From above me, I could hear a motor running, and a car door slam. My injury forgotten, I got back to my somewhat wobbly feet, and ran as fast as my legs could carry me, holding my forearm to my chest. Behind me, someone was in hot pursuit. I didn't dare look to check who it was.

"Kevin! Stop!"

And that was the first time I ever heard Marvin use my name. To this day, they only rarely use it, preferring the everyday nickname "kid". They would only revert to my first name in case of emergency. It almost made me turned around, which was probably the point. Almost.

Running in mid-calf snow was no easy feat. Marvin, being so tall, had a distinct advantage over me and caught up with me in no time. His fingers closed on my sweatshirt, and he pulled back hard. I felt the material rip, and then his arm was around my waist, and we both fell to the ground. The agony reverberating from my forearm was so intense black dots danced in front of my eyes, and I almost fainted. I had no breath left for screaming, and could not oppose any resistance when Marvin turned me over to shout at me:

"What the hell were you trying to do, kid!"

Stupidest question ever! Too bad I was in no shape to say so.

"You are in so much trouble, you have no idea! What did you do with that key?"

He didn't wait for my response, and searched my pockets, retrieving the storage room key. So I had held on to it after all. That explained why Marvin was alone. I was not looking forward to my next meeting with Harry.

In the dark, and in his frame of mind, Marvin did not see I was injured. He got to his feet, his arm still firmly encircling my waist and lifted me up like I didn't weight a thing. The pressure on my arm became unbearable. My vision blurred. I found my voice and screamed out in pain.

Marvin, misunderstanding the reason for my struggling, only tightened his grip.

"God dammit, kid. Why must you make everything so fucking hard!"

With my left arm, I propped myself upright, trying to ease the pressure off my arm.

"Stop it! You're hurting me!" I cried.

Had it been Harry, he probably wouldn't have cared and kept on walking, but this was Marvin. My cry had made him stop and, after a second of hesitation, he put me down. I sank to my knees, bending over my arm, refusing to look at him.

"Kevin, where are you hurt?" he sounded worried.

I wanted my mother. She would know what to do. She would make everything all right again. When I didn't answer, Marvin knelt down in front of me. He reached out, and cautiously felt my arm. Even his light touch was enough to send a tremor of pain down my spine and I moaned through my gritted teeth.

"Ah hell." sighed Marvin.

Hell indeed. And that night had only begun.


	7. Chapter 6

_Hello everyone!_

 _So here is my new chapter! Fair warning for those of you who take pity upon Kevin, this chapter will not be easier on him than the previous one was. Sorry about that. Some things simply needed to happen in order to proceed with the story._

 _As some of you mentioned in your reviews, Marvin is quite vocal in my story. I do not believe this to be out of character, as he clearly argued with Harry in the first movie, following his own mind, regardless of what Harry said._

 _Home Alone was a family comedy, my story is not. I tried to write the wet bandits using in a more realistic tone, which means that although Marvin is a follower, that doesn't make him stupid, or spineless._

 _And now, on with the story!_

Chapter 6

Since the first day of my kidnapping, hardly a day had gone by without me asking Harry or Marvin, but mostly Marvin, to let me go home.

I had never begged.

Until that night.

The night they broke me.

Harry and Marvin were not killers, but on that night, they came close to crossing that line.

Very close.

And I never forgot it.

I had tried and failed to get away. What's more, I now found myself seriously injured. I needed a doctor. I knew that, and so did Marvin. I had only accepted to get back in the van on his solemn promise that he would take me to the hospital. It didn't take me long to realise the only place he would be taking me was back to the house.

"You promised!" I cried accusingly as soon as the house came into view.

Marvin tried to pacify me while driving:

"We gotta go unlock Harry first. Then we'll take you to the doctor."

Harry! He was the last person I wanted to see! After what had transpired earlier that evening, I feared more than ever being in his presence. I knew he would be _so_ angry, and I trembled at the idea of what he would do to me when he got out of the storage room. As soon as the van pulled up the driveway, I was however shocked to see Harry storm out of the house. Marvin rolled his window down and I retreated to the farthest end of the van.

"Did you find him?

– Do you think I'd be back if I hadn't? Got the key too, how'd you get out of the storage room, anyway?

– Well, well, look who's back" Harry welcomed me with a cold smile. "I picked the lock. I hadn't had to pick a lock in over ten years, but I still got it!"

Harry would one day teach me this neat trick of his, but it would take him years before he trusted me enough to share this knowledge with me.

"Just wait till I get my hands on you, you little beast. Oh, I'm going to do what your parents should've done years ago, and set you straight!"

I gasped fearfully, and Marvin intervened:

"Harry, knock it off, we have a problem. The kid's hurt."

Harry took a closer look at me and whistled.

"What did you do to him? Stabbed him or something?

– I grabbed him and… we kinda fell" explained Marvin pitifully.

"On _snow_?

– He ran down Salt Creek. You know there are rocks all over down there…"

Marvin sounded uncomfortable. I did not see the point of mentioning my own fall. He could do with a little guilt, I thought. To this day, I never confessed that my arm was most likely already broken when Marvin grabbed me.

"Harry, I think the kid might… need a doctor."

That wiped the amusement off Harry's face.

"Please tell me you're kidding. He's playing you, right?

– Something's wrong with his arm. It looks serious enough, but you tell me."

I expected Harry to curse. I expected Harry to yell. I expected Harry to jeer. What I did not expect was for him to remain so calm.

"Take him inside. I'll take a look at him."

That sentence scared me more than anything he could have said. I was not used to Harry being so level-headed, and it sounded so much more threatening than his usual bad temper.

"See, kid? It's going to be fine, Harry can take care of it."

I looked at Marvin, horrified. He actually _wanted_ Harry of all people to take a look at me? He wasn't a doctor! How could Marvin look so relieved after such a ridiculous suggestion? And right after Harry had just threatened to beat me, no less! I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Harry would probably delight in hurting me even more!

"You said you would take me to the hospital! You promised!" I stubbornly clung to Marvin's word.

"Harry knows what he's doing, it'll be fine" Marvin tried to reassure me as he parked the van.

"No it won't! He's going to hurt me!"

To my dismay, Marvin did not refute my last point. He got out of the van and walked over to the sliding door, holding out his hand to help me get out.

"Please take me to the hospital.

– Kid, come on, you know I can carry you if I have to."

When I still didn't take his hand, Marvin grew impatient

"You really want to piss off Harry?"

That got me moving. With a firm hold on my shoulder to keep me steady, Marvin led me to the kitchen where Harry was waiting for us.

"Sit." he ordered, pointing at a kitchen chair as he finished washing his hands.

An emergency kit, some clean towels and water were already on the table. I looked over to Marvin, but he pushed me firmly toward the chair. Harry pulled up a second chair and sat in front of me. He raised his hand to my face, making me flinch, but be only pushed back my hair to have a better look at my forehead.

"Okay, kid; I'm going to ask you some questions, you just answer them. Do you have a headache?

– My head hurts." I mumbled.

– Yes, that usually happens when you bump you head on a rock. Do you have a _headache_? Are you going to be sick?

I shook my head.

"Marv, hold out the newspaper, will you. Can you read the headlines, kid?"

I nervously complied while Harry cleaned my forehead, and face with some wet gauze. To my horror, I noticed the tissue was red with blood. Of course I knew I was hurt, the pain was a dead giveaway, but I had not expected blood. It made everything so much worst.

"I'm hurt?"

My voice trembled, and I felt just about to burst into tears.

"Just a cut. Don't move" informed me Harry, rolling on with his question "What's your name? How old are you? When is your birthday?"

His questions kept me distracted, and I held back my tears.

"Well, he doesn't have a concussion as far as I can tell. He's going to need some stitches. I can take care of that.

Stitches? I felt the blood drain from my face and, I pushed his hand away, ready to slide off my chair, but Harry held on to me.

"Listen, kid; you're going to need stitches. Here or at the E.R. isn't going to change that. You're not the first guy I've had to stitch up. Just ask Marv, he's fine.

– Harry's right" added Marvin. "He knows what he's doing. Besides, the ladies love a mean looking scar. You'll look like a total badass!"

I was far from convinced, and Marvin's cheerful encouragements did not help, although I can now attest that he was right on both accounts; Harry _did_ know what he was doing, and turns out girls do like scars. Who knew?

Since it was clear they wouldn't let me off that chair, I dolefully swallowed the small pill Harry gave me, promising it would numb the pain, though nowhere near enough, that liar, and sat back, as stiff as a board. I felt weak when I saw the long, but thin, needle Harry selected, but did not move as he thoroughly sterilized it with a lighter and some alcohol.

Harry cleaned up my wound one last time with antiseptic, making me wince. After that, he called for Marvin to hold a flashlight to my face, and that was a pretext as good as any to close my eyes, and avoid looking at Harry as he took that scary looking needle to my forehead.

I took a sharp intake of breath when I felt the needle pierce my skin and trembled slightly.

"Believe me, kid; now is not the time to move." warned me Harry as he worked.

The edge of my wound eventually went numb after a few stitches, and Harry was able to finish the job with minimal pain.

If only that had been the end of it. Harry then turned his attention to my forearm. He tried to pull the sleeve of my sweatshirt up my arm, making me hiss and pull back. To my relief, Harry did not insist.

"Marv, get me the scissors, from the office."

Marvin obeyed, and went upstairs to retrieve a pair of sharp scissors, which he handed Harry. When he saw how I eyed those with apprehension, Harry rolled his eyes.

"Don't give me that look, kid; it's for your shirt, not you, stupid! Now hold still."

Harry cut a few inches into the sleeve of my sweatshirt before ripping it open past my elbow. Behind him, Marvin was nervously pacing the kitchen floor.

"He's just bruised, right? Nothing to worry about, right? Harry?

– Do you mind shutting up for a minute, Marv! Give me a sec!"

Marvin might have sounded worried, but, as I would soon find out, it had very little to do with me. What Marvin was truly worried about was what they would have to do should I be seriously injured.

Harry, deep in concentration, examined my elbow, forearm, and wrist, touching various areas to test which ones hurt. He then cautiously moved my joints and asked me to move my fingers. He didn't say anything at first, and then turned over to Marvin:

"Come here. I need you to hold him down."

I looked to Marvin in fright, only to find he was as alarmed by Harry's request as I was.

"Hold… What are you going to do, Harry?

– In case you haven't noticed, we don't exactly have access to x-rays. You want to know how serious this is, just do what I say."

Reluctantly, Marvin took place behind me, putting his arms across my chest. I had a very bad feeling about this.

"Why does he have to hold me?" I remember asking in a high-pitched voice.

They both ignored me. Marvin had a worried expression, but he looked to Harry, biting his lips. Harry, on the other hand, did not look nervous, but far too calm for my taste. He took hold of my right wrist, while instructing Marvin.

"He's going to jerk, so hold him tight.

– What are you doing? Let go! Please don't hurt me!

– And Marv", added Harry as if he didn't hear me "he's going to scream, so brace yourself, and whatever you do, just hold him down."

And scream I did. I howled in pain the second that Harry pushed his fingers along the bones of my arm. To be fair, I think Harry moved as fast as he could under the circumstances without risking injuring me further, but there was no way around it, it was pure torture.

Through my screams, I vaguely remember Marvin trying to sooth me with words of comfort me as he held me in place, but my mind did not register a word he said. I struggled, twisted my body with all my might, and tried to kick Harry, but he never relented; his fingers probed and tried my injured arm until he was satisfied.

I can't tell how long Harry's examination lasted. A couple of minutes at the most, but to me, it had seemed to go on forever. When he finally let go of my arm, my cheeks were wet with tears and I was shaking all over.

"I'll give you that, kid; you've got guts. I've seen grown men faint for far less." remarked Harry.

One of the very rare compliments he would ever pay me. I was in no position to appreciate it. I felt weak, and dizzy. Before I knew it, nausea hit me. I bent over to the side, and threw up on the kitchen floor. Sobbing and heaving, I started to rock back and forth without looking at either one of them.

I felt Marvin pat my hair.

"Just breathe, kid. You'll be alright."

His brazen lie only made me cry out for the one thing I wanted most:

"Take me home, please!"

Marvin turned away from me without answering.

"So?" he asked Harry.

"His forearm is broken. At two places as far as I could tell, one close to his wrist" was Harry's diagnostic.

"And can you… Put it back?"

I sobbed harder upon hearing this, my teeth chattering. I could not take it; I could not go through that again. It almost came as a relief when Harry stated:

"This wasn't a clean break, Marv. I'd only make it worst.

– So… what do we do? Should we, you know…

– Take him to the hospital? Well, that depends, how do you feel about jail? Cause that's where this scenario will land us!

– You promised you'd take me! Please!" I screamed at Marvin, even though I knew his word didn't mean anything.

"Shut up, kid." replied Harry on a tone devoid of his usual bite.

"We could… I don't know, say he's our, make sure he stays quiet in front of the doctor?" suggested Marvin, but his words lacked conviction.

"Marv, didn't you hear what I said? The kid needs _surgery_. We don't have any I.D. for him, and should I remind you that he has been all over the news for over the past month! He'll be recognized in no time!

– So what? We do nothing?"

Harry crossed his arms, weighing their options

"If we do nothing, then… It'll go septic. At best, he loses the ability to use that arm. At worst, nerve damage, infection…"

– What are you saying?"

I had a feeling Marvin knew perfectly well what Harry was getting at.

"Marv, this isn't going to heal itself. He's not going to get any better."

I hoped and waited for Marvin to insist they should then take me to the hospital, but he stayed silent. Harry took a few steps in his direction and spoke quietly.

"Marv, it might be for the best, for the kid, and us, to get it over with.

– What do you mean?

– You know perfectly well what I mean."

Not liking Harry's tone, I looked up, only to regret it.

Harry had a revolver in his hand.

My sobs turned to hysteria, but neither of them looked at me.

"You want to kill him? Nah ha, no way!" I dimly heard Marvin protest.

"Marv, you know we were always heading this way. Think about it, you know I'm right.

– The hell we are!

– Do _you_ have a better idea? Cause we just went through our options.

– You're the one who let him get away in the first place; _you_ come up with another option! We're not killing the kid, cause he ran away on _your_ watch!"

Marvin's accusations sure hit a nerve, and Harry grew red in the face.

"Don't give me that, Marv!" he shouted back "You know it's only a matter of time before one of his stunts lands us in jail. You want to go to jail? Is that it? Over that brat!

– Oh, so _now_ you care what I want? Who wanted to hit that house in the first place, huh? Who insisted, we break-in because _you_ just _had_ to have it! Even if we both knew the kid was in there? Tell me, Harry, what was your great plan, your great strategy for dealing with the kid? Or were you planning on killing him that night?

– No, that was not the plan! There was no plan, alright! You want me to say I made a mistake? Fine! I screwed up! I should've backed down, but I didn't! Happy now?"

I had never heard Harry and Marvin have a go at each other that way, nor have I since. It had nothing to do with their usual and harmless bickering. What's more, I don't think Harry was used to Marvin questioning his decisions. His eyes were shooting daggers at his partner, his fist clenching the gun. I couldn't take my eyes off it, expecting Harry to start using it at any second. Marvin towered over him and couldn't have cared less. In an attempt to calm down, Harry lowered his voice:

"I know you don't want to hear this Marv. All I'm saying is, let's not let one mistake ruin the rest of our lives."

– And that's how you plan on fixing things? By murdering the kid? Then what? Get rid of the body and forget all about it? Well, if it's that easy…"

Marvin reached down for me and I screeched in terror as he pulled me in front of him:

"Please take me home! I just wanna go home! _Please_!"

I'm not even sure Marvin heard me as he glared coldly at Harry.

"You really think killing the kid will sort this mess out? Fine! You do it."

Upon hearing those words, I broke into a new fit of hysteria, and tried to hold on to Marvin, but he had me by the neck, and held me at arm's length.

"Please don't let him hurt me! I'll be good! Please! I won't run away again, I promise! I'll do whatever you want!"

Marvin ignored me, his grip like iron.

"Go ahead, Harry. Shoot him. Right here, right now. But _you_ bury him somewhere, I don't care where, and don't expect me to clean up after you!"

I looked up to Harry, down right terrified, the pain in my arm forgotten. I could not breathe; I was hyperventilating, and shaking bad. Harry was not looking at me, however, but straight at Marvin without blinking.

When he did turn to me, Harry raised his gun and I felt the cold barrel pressed against my forehead. I whimpered, but did not close my eyes and stared up at him, waiting for him to pull the trigger.

His eyes never wavered, and my insides twisted. I saw, as clear as day that, at moment, Harry could do it. He could pull that trigger, and Marvin would let him. Why he chose not to, I'll never know. Still looking at me, he let the gun fall back to his side.

"Fine. What the hell do you suggest we do then? We _can't_ take him to a hospital, unless you changed your mind about jail."

Without a word or warning, Marvin let go of my neck. My legs gave way under me, and I fell to the floor where I resumed my rocking, cradling my arm. The silence in the kitchen persisted until Marvin came up with a solution in the guise of a name:

"Charlie.

– Charlie? What about him?

– Call him, Harry." said Marvin with uncharacteristic bitterness.

– You want me… to _call_ him?

I did not lift my eyes or dared to look at them, but the names rattled Harry. Whoever this Charlie was, Harry did not seem to want to mess with him, which I knew did not bode well for me.

"He owes us ten times over for Memphis, Cincinnati _and_ Detroit", insisted Marvin with a surprising hardness. "He's got doctors on his payroll to patch his guys up in case they get injured on the job. This isn't even a gunshot wound, and Charlie will make sure they keep their mouth shut about the kid. That's what he pays them for, right?

– He does, but Marv, after last time, we agreed we were through. You never wanted to have anything to do with Charlie, remember?

– Yeah well, things change. Call him.

– Damn it. You sure picked one hell of a time to call in favors." Harry nervously wiped his upper lips with the back of his hand.

"Every time Charlie asked, we helped. I don't recall ever calling those favors." shot back Marvin.

Harry raised a hand, silencing Marvin. For the longest time, he remained lost in thoughts. When he finally spoke, Harry sounded much more composed:

"You want me to call Charlie, fine, I will. But before I do, you really need to think this through, Marv. If I call him, he'll help. He'll cover for us, no problem. We covered far worst for him, and he knows we're good for it. But if I call Charlie, there's no turning back. The kid doesn't go anywhere. Ever. Or going to jail will be the least of our problems. Are you ready for that?

– Call him. One way or another, the kid's not going anywhere, right?"

Harry's heavy sigh reached my ears.

"I'll go make the call." After another pause, he added "Calm the brat down, no screaming. Charlie will need to know we have the situation under control.

– I'll take care of it."

Harry walked out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with Marvin. I did not move from my position on the floor or looked at him. My thoughts had been driven by fear for so long I did not know what to think anymore. Danger had passed, but I felt far from safe. I felt trapped.

Marvin brought me a glass of water, but I turned away from it.

"Drink, it'll make you feel better" insisted Marvin, bringing the glass to my lips.

Although I was parched, a glass of water would not help me. Barely above a whisper, I pleaded one more time:

"I want my mommy. Please, please take me home."

I saw a flicker of regret in Marvin's eyes as he wiped the tears from my cheeks.

"You are home, kid. No more crying."

I was too young to understand all the details of what had transpired that night, or what Marvin had meant, but I could sense something was different. Up until that night, my fate had hung in the balance. In the course of an evening, I had inadvertently changed that. Through my escape attempt, subsequent injury, to that gun pressed to my head culminating with that ominous call to the unknown Charlie, I had triggered a shift in my status.

I was no longer some kid they didn't know what to do with.

I became _their_ kid.


	8. Chapter 7

_Hello there!_

 _I happy to post this new chapter, I hope you will all enjoy it._

 _Dear Andrea, I must confess that your comment about the link between Joe Pesci and the Mafia left me very perplexed, as Home Alone is the movie I know him from. So you got me to look up his filmography and I saw he had won an Academy Award for Best supporting actor in a movie called Goodfellas. With a title like that, I was sure it would be a nice feel good movie. Boy was I in for a surprise! I get that reference now, and I must confess I'm a little more scared of Harry now._

Chapter 7

I'm not sure how long it took me to recover from that night, or if I ever truly did.

We don't talk about it.

Ever.

It's almost an unspoken rule between us. It happened. No apologies. We just live with it.

Life goes on.

None of us had dinner that night. I don't think I would've been able to eat a bite anyway, and might have ended up throwing up again had I tried. While Harry was busy upstairs, presumably on the phone with the unknown Charlie, Marvin cleaned up the kitchen, and wrapped a bag of ice cubes in a towel for my arm. He then led me to the living room where I curled myself up into an armchair, and did not move. I suppose Marvin's refusal to lock me up in the storage room after that scene was the only way he could think of making it up to me. Either that or he was worried I might injure my arm even more if I was left on my own in the dark.

Marvin got himself a drink from the liqueur cabinet. He usually preferred beer, leaving the stronger stuff to Harry, but on that evening, I guess he needed something with a little more kick. He drank a first glass of what I think was whisky, in one swig, before sitting on the couch in front of the television with a second one filled to the rim. I'm sure he would've gladly drunk the entire bottle.

I rarely saw Harry or Marvin get drunk. They were never shy about consuming alcohol in front of me, but they wouldn't drink themselves into a stupor. Besides, as I learned over time, both of them could handle their liqueur. In recent years, I'm the one who ended up getting drunk a few too many times trying to keep up with them, which always get a laugh out of them. Harry and Marvin know their limits, and never ignore it. If that night taught them anything was that they could not afford to lose control.

Harry spent hours over the phone. I sometime caught the sound of his voice, but I did not even try to make out the words, not that it would've made much of a difference; Harry usually chose to speak Italian whenever he talked with Charlie, as I would one day find out. When he came back downstairs, the midnight news was almost over.

"What did he say?" asked Marvin.

Harry took one look at his partner's by then empty whisky glass and went to pour himself a glassful.

"What do you think he said? He said we were crazy for not getting rid of the kid weeks ago.

– But he's going to help?

– Course he will. He's going to make some calls. He should call back in the morning with an address."

Harry sat down with us for what must have been the most uncomfortable evening of our lives. They didn't talk to me, and that arrangement suited me just fine. What was there to say anyway? Thanks for not killing me, and for all the nightmares? Because I had, and sometimes still do have my fair share of nightmares about that night. Nothing is quite as unsettling as waking up after one of those, and being force to sit and have breakfast with the walking talking versions of your fears.

One thing is for sure; my thoughts that evening definitely did not involve any feelings of gratitude. Harry might have put the gun away, but it was still very much on my mind. So while they pretended to watch television, I absorbed myself in the contemplation of thin air, trying my best to forget where I was.

My mind felt blissfully empty, and I didn't even try to think about my parents. The souvenir of my family felt more and more like it belonged to another life; one that was far, far away from my current reality. Had I been older, I might have worried about that.

It was sometimes in the wee hours of morning that Harry finally declared forfeit and turned in. Only then did he acknowledge my presence by simply reminding Marvin:

"Don't forget to lock him on the storage room before going to bed.

– I won't" replied Marvin without looking at him.

Marvin never went to bed that night. He stayed in front of the television until morning. I dozed on and off, but I don't think he did. In the morning, he replaced the ice for my arm, and tried to coax me into eating something. When Harry joined us at breakfast, he looked awful, and was even testier that his usual self, leading me to believe sleep also eluded him that night.

Marvin had made his signature eggs, and while Harry ate some, I'm not sure Marvin had more than a few mouthfuls with his coffee. I did not touch my plate. Marvin presented me with milk, orange and apple juice, but I wouldn't have any.

"You gotta eat something, kid" he tried to reason with me, in what felt like mounting frustration.

"Marv, give it a rest, will ya? The kid's fine. He'll eat when he's hungry" chastised Harry.

The phone rang soon after that, making me look up.

"That'll be Charlie. This won't take long."

I listened to the sound of Harry's steps receding down the hall, unsure about how I felt about the whole "Charlie business". I was far from convinced they had my best interest at heart.

Marvin tried to persuade me to eat some more, but eventually gave up and went back to sipping his coffee. When Harry came back down, he still looked tired, but satisfied.

"Looks like we'll be taking a little trip.

– Where to?

– Detroit. Charlie's made some arrangements. Someone will be waiting for us at a clinic at eight o'clock, tonight.

– Detroit, huh? Just like old times" sighed Marvin. "That'll be a fun drive.

– And a long one. I'll go fill up the van. You get some rest, we'll both need it."

We left in mid-afternoon. I think Marvin was able to get a few hours of sleep after Harry came back from the gas station. I didn't. Shortly before leaving, Marvin tried, once again unsuccessfully, to tempt me with some food, but I simply couldn't bring myself to have anything. I wasn't trying to be difficult, or to annoy them on purpose. I wouldn't eat any more than I would sleep or talk. Surprisingly, it was Harry, and not Marvin, who snapped me out of it. In response to Harry's insistence I be left alone, Marvin shot back at him:

"What's the use of involving Charlie if the kid starves himself?

– He's a kid, he doesn't know what starving is! He'll eat tomorrow, when his arm is better.

– And what if he doesn't?

– Oh, quit your whining, I'll take care of it, if it'll shut you up!"

Harry walked over to me with the banana and glass of milk I had just ignored from Marvin.

"Okay, kid; enough with the sulking. Eat."

I did not even look at the fruit. When he didn't get a response from me, Harry pinched my wrist, just close enough to my injury to make me cry out in alarm.

"Harry, don't!" protested Marvin, but Harry pushed him aside.

"Do you want us to take you to the doctor? Well, do you?" insisted Harry, pinching harder when I didn't answer right away.

"Yes!" I hissed back, my eyes flashing with anger as he forced the answer out of me.

"That's better" chuckled Harry. "Now eat. We'll go after you're done."

And so I ate. It didn't make me feel better, but I didn't throw up either.

"See Marv, the kid just needs firm handling" gloated Harry.

Oh, how I wanted to throw the glass in his face, or, better yet, get my hands on another blowtorch, and see how long he'd be laughing. Harry always knew just how to push my buttons.

We left soon afterward. They lent me a warm, but oversized jacket that probably belonged to Harry, a winter hat to cover my hair, and a scarf for my face. Marvin had built me a nest of blankets and pillows in the back of the van where he could keep an eye on me while Harry drove. Just before they got in the van, I saw Harry pull Marvin aside and hand him a second revolver. I felt my throat contract with fear.

"You really think that's necessary?" asked a frowning Marvin.

"Like you said, just like old times. You really want to waltz into Detroit unharmed? After what happened last time?

– Yeah, yeah, I remember" grumbled Marvin.

The gun disappeared inside his coat. That, if nothing else, persuaded me to be on my very best behaviour.

Harry and Marvin were not what I would call gun enthusiasts. They have a couple of firearm, including handguns, but that's it. They were always smart enough to get rid of those they acquired during their robberies first thing. All the guns they owned, they own legally. They never left those lying around, but I knew they were in the house. Harry and Marvin were criminals, but they were criminals that had managed to evade the law. They had no criminal record, which enabled them to keep their firearms license and identification cards up to date. Harry was quite adamant about it.

After having a gun pointed at my head, I developed an understanding fear of firearms. It would take me years to overcome my revulsion, again surprisingly thanks to Harry who, with, let's face it, great risk to his personal safety, put a gun in my hand and taught me how to shoot. They won't let me have my own gun, or at least not yet, but I know I could handle my own.

As predicted by Harry, the drive was a long, but uneventful one. We didn't stop anywhere along the way, and Harry made sure to respect all the speed limits. I had never been to Detroit, but my father travelled over there for business, though I am sure he never went anywhere near the neighborhood we drove to that evening. After seeing Harry and Marvin arm themselves, I had expected us to land in some shady part of town, but we actually drove to a quiet suburban neighborhood, like any other.

The clinic could have belonged to my family doctor. The small parking lot was deserted, but Harry still parked further down the bloc in a shadowy area, while Marvin surveyed the street. As promised by the mysterious Charlie, there was some light in the clinic. Someone was clearly waiting for us. In theory, I knew we were there for my arm, but I suddenly had no desire to leave the comfort of the van. When Marvin tried to help me out, I remembered his gun, and held back.

"Come on, kid, you're the one who wanted to see a doctor. What's wrong now?" Marvin asked, exasperated.

The lack of sleep was probably getting to him.

"Is Charlie going to be there?"

I saw Marvin raise an eyebrow at my question. It always amazed me how much grown-ups, including Harry and Marvin, underestimated how much I listened, understood and was able to deduce from their conversation. Marvin did however seem to understand my nervousness.

"Nah, don't worry about Charlie, you'll never meet him."

How I wish that were true. It would be years before I met him face to face, but my eight-year-old self already knew I did not want to have anything to do with that man.

When we reached the entrance, someone was there to unlock to door, and let us in.

"Tony!" cried Marvin with delight upon recognizing the man.

"Marv, Harry, long time no see" grinned a short brown haired man, exchanging a casual handshake with them.

"Long time, don't I know it, Tony" Harry sounded equally pleased to see the man. "Charlie should've said he'd be sending you, I wouldn't have worried.

– Yeah, he mentioned you and Marv needed someone you could trust. This way" led the man into the quiet clinic.

We entered a well-lit consultation room, and the man smiled down at me.

"So, what did you bring me?"

The man sounded friendly enough, but I was not reassured and did not return his smile. I couldn't say how old Tony was, he might have been closer to Harry's age than Marvin's, but it was impossible to tell.

"The kid had an accident" simply stated Harry.

"Accident, huh? Well, let's have a look at you."

Tony held out his hand, but as a true testament to how confused and scared I was, I stayed fairly hidden behind Harry, regardless of the man's apparent kindness.

"He's not usually this shy, he's just tired" explained Marvin as he helped me out of the jacket and up on the exam table.

"I got to say, I'm pretty surprised by the company both of you are keeping these days. I never would've guessed you two were involved in all the commotion surrounding this little one. Something tells me there's a story here; any chance you're in a sharing mood?

– Forget it, Tony." was Harry's curt answer, and the man was smart enough not to push it.

Tony examined me, taking my blood pressure and other vitals before turning his attention to my forearm. Remembering Harry's own examination all too well, I trembled slightly, but Tony did not hurt me.

"So, what happened?" he asked as he brushed the tender bruise on my cheek.

– He fell down the stairs" coolly lied Harry.

– Really, Harry? _That's_ what you're going with? The old "falling down the stairs" excuse?

– It's a classic for a reason" shrugged Harry. "Anyway, I felt two fractures, one close to his wrist. He also cut open his forehead, but I took care of that.

Tony carefully brushed back my hair to take a closer look, smiling all the while.

"Harry stitched you up? Well, you're in good hands, I couldn't have done it better myself. First things first, do you guys know anything about his medical record? Recent shots? Blood type? Any allergies?"

Marvin shook his head.

"No idea.

– Well might as well do this right. You want to give me your arm, buddy? You're not afraid of needles are you?"

I most certainly did _not_ want to give my one good arm to that guy, but after catching the look of warning on Harry's face, I let Tony take the blood sample. After Harry' stitching the previous night, a little needle wasn't that bad. Or at least, that's what I kept telling myself.

Tony proceeded with his medical exam, taking notes in a file. He always spoke to me in a reassuring tone, but I couldn't bring myself to like him. From what I could gather, this man knew perfectly well that Harry and Marvin had kidnapped me, and yet he wouldn't do anything about it. He might not hurt me, but he wouldn't help me either. I never would have thought so many people would willingly conspire with my captors. This was very upsetting. My trust in adults was, from then on, seriously shaken.

I watched the man as he examined the result of my blood sample thoughtfully.

"Something wrong?" asked Marvin, noticing Tony's expression.

"It's a blood type test, Marv, there's no "wrong" result, just unexpected ones. This little one had an AB positive blood type.

– And that's a problem?

– No, it's just uncommon. You might want to make a note of that, which reminds me, Charlie also sends these, said you might need it." Tony handed a thick envelope to Harry.

Harry opened it and quickly scanned the documents.

"That's Charlie for ya, always one step ahead… Yeah, we might need that. Marv I'll get started on those, take care of the kid.

– While Harry is doing that, how about we go downstairs, and get some x-rays of that arm? Ever had x-rays before?"

Again, I did not answer Tony. I hated the way he made it sound like this was some kind of fun game, or that I had any say in the matter. Without a word, I followed him and Marvin to the basement where the radiography machine and other testing equipment were kept. While Marvin helped me out of my clothes and into a much too large hospital gown, he asked Tony:

"Who's the doc? Not that drunken Connor, I hope.

– Connor's history. He became a liability not long after Harry and you left, so me and the boys took care of it" explained Tony matter-of-factly. "Charlie is sending Moore.

– I always said Connor would have to go on day or another."

Marvin's dark version of a smile as he said this disturbed me. I'm not sure I liked Marvin around Tony.

"I've never heard of Moore, is he any good?

– To be good, _she_ is good. The doc's one hell of a cold hearted bitch, but she's top notch" I heard Tony confide. "She's inner circle. Charlie trusts her completely. When shit got crazy, she's the one who took care of Deziel, so you know she can hold her tongue. Charlie has her flying-in from New York; she should be here in about an hour or so. Macky's picking her up.

– That maniac? You mean they still let him get behind the wheel?

– Better her than me" agreed Tony, still smiling.

"Please tell me you didn't say anything to Macky about... this.

– Marv, you know me better than that! I wouldn't tell Macky where I keep my Kraft dinner. Don't worry about it, he doesn't know why and who's asking for the doc."

Looking down at me, Tony added:

"And believe me, Macky'll never guess in a hundred years."

Tony took me to the radiography room and tried to get me on the table to set the machine. I didn't like it at all. I knew I was hurt, and I knew I needed medical attention, but not like this, not at the complete mercy of these strangers. I felt much too vulnerable. The machine, which I know I would've found so cool under normal circumstances, scared me. I was tired and in pain. I felt the absence of my mother more than ever. She wouldn't so much as leave my side during a dentist appointment, let alone for a broken arm! I took a step back, and felt my eyes fill up with tears once again. Marvin was at my side in a flash.

"Shh, not here, okay? Tony's not going to hurt you; he's just going to take some picture of your arm.

– I want-

– I know" cut-in Marvin, reading my mood with surprising accuracy. "I know. She's not here right now. But we agreed no more crying, remember?"

I remembered him saying so, but I certainly never agreed with him.

"You want to get better, right? Just let Tony take the pictures, and it'll be fine. We'll take care of you."

Marvin must have caught my dubious expression, because he quickly added:

"Now I know you're one hell of a tough kid. This is nothing, so no tears, all right?"

I was thankfully able to hold-in my tears. As I laid there on the table, I overheard Tony ask Marvin in the adjacent room:

"You guys know what you're doing, right?

– Just… take the damn x-rays, Tony."

That's how far Tony dared breach the subject of my kidnapping. He took the radiographies without any further comments, and we returned upstairs where Harry was still completing some kind of paperwork.

While Tony studied the results of my radiographies and took some more notes for his file, Harry would once in a while ask weird questions to Marvin, such as the name of his parents, and such, but I did not have the will or the energy to wonder what that was about. It wasn't long before Tony confirmed Harry's amateur diagnostic.

"Two fractures, no doubt about that. Nasty fall. I don't like how those bones align."

He then turned to me, his smile back in place.

"You want to give me your left arm again? Last time, I promise. I'm just going to give you a little shot.

– What for?" asked Marvin who was back at my side.

"Just some antibiotics before the doc gets here."

I got nervous again, and this time, not without for good reasons. The moment Doctor Moore stepped into the room, I swear I felt the temperature drop ten degrees. The woman was beautiful, even I could see it back then, but there was a distinctive hardness in the way she carried herself. I suddenly felt very small in this room full of adults I knew were not my friends. I almost reached out for Marvin, but held back, knowing he wouldn't be much comfort. From the way he was eying the doctor, I would say he had momentarily forgotten all about me anyway.

The doctor did not even glance at Marvin, and her deep brown eyes only lingered on me long enough for her to pinch her lips, before turning her attention to my medical file. Tony and the doctor discussed quietly for a while, pointing at this and that on my x-rays, and my anxiety rose once more.

Only Harry seemed indifferent to the doctor's presence. He did not even acknowledge her arrival by lifting his eyes from his paperwork. It was however to him that the doctor turned when she was done reviewing my file.

"The boy needs surgery.

– Tell me something I don't know" answered Harry, still writing down something.

"This surgery is fairly straightforward; any pediatric surgeon could handle it. I am a _neurosurgeon_ ; this isn't my area of expertise."

There was no mistaking the scorn in her voice. Harry put his pen down and looked at the doctor with a coldness to equal her own. I, for one, was more than happy not to be on the receiving end of his obvious displeasure.

"I understand that this detail had already been settled with my _brother_ when you agreed to take the job. I also understand that you are being very well compensated for your trouble, so don't waste my time pretending this is beneath you, and _just get on with it_."

From the look on the doctor's face, I could tell she wasn't used to being spoken to that way. Her nostrils flared and she lifted her chin, but she didn't argue with Harry and turned to Tony instead.

"You have everything ready?" she barked at him, making Tony jump "Get this boy cleaned up and we'll get started."

She turned her heels and walked out of the room, fuming.

"Stuck up bitch!" spat Harry.

Marvin was the only one who seemed to have enjoyed this exchange.

" Ah Harry, you always had a way with the ladies."

I don't remember much of what followed. They thankfully put me under for the surgery, and when I woke up, I was back in the van on my way back to the house. I have no idea how long the surgery lasted, but I found myself with a soft material cast. A choice, I suspect, made to avoid another trip to the doctor's once it was time to remove it.

The following morning, things were awkward as ever between the three of us, although Harry pretended otherwise. Though the pain in my arm had lessened and I was given medication, I felt more miserable than ever. I had never been seriously injured before and my captor's silence did not reassure me. If I didn't know where I stood anymore. I didn't know how to interpret their silence and tried to remain as still as possible to avoid catching their attention as they went about their business.

Later that day, Marvin went out, leaving me with Harry. I remember how my heart got caught in my throat as I watched him go. He was not my friend, was keeping from my family and had not kept his promises, but Marvin had not held a gun to my head. I never forgot that. Harry however, left me alone.

When Marvin came back some time later in the evening, the first thing he did was present me with an elephant stuffed animal. I stared at the toy for the longest time, unsure how to react. Stuffed animals had never been a favorite of mine. Sleeping with a one at my age was a sure way to get picked on at school, and I had enough of that with my siblings back at home. Only I wasn't going to school anymore, and I wasn't even sure I would ever see my brothers and sisters again. I reached out for the elephant. It was soft and I hugged it to my chest.

I did not thank him, but Marvin seemed satisfied that his peace offering had not been rejected. It would be the closest thing I ever got to an apology, and one of the very rare toys he bought, and did not steal for me.

I still have that damn elephant.


	9. Chapter 8

_Good morning!_

 _Sorry for the delay in updating, I had planned on posting this chapter on Saturday morning, but due to some technical difficulties, could not post until this morning._

 _Just a quick note, my story makes no mention of the Amber Alert in Kevin's kidnapping for one simple and good reason: this story takes place at the beginning of 1991, and the Amber alert was only launched in 1996._

 _Once again, thank you all for your comments and reviews; writing this story is so much fun, and I hope you enjoy it too!_

Chapter 8

I kept my cast for six weeks. Six long weeks during which time Harry and Marvin proved to be very strict and dedicated nurses. They followed the instruction left by dear doctor Moore to the letter. It was clear neither of them wanted to risk another trip to the doctor, or having to call Charlie again. And as I understood their dilemma in terms of "stay healthy or they might shoot you", I did not protest no matter how much their attention weighted on me.

Ever since my "little accident", as they refer to it, Harry and Marvin have developed a tendency to overreact to the slightest fluctuation in my health. To this day, if I so much as cough or sneezed too often, I'll find myself buried under blankets eating chicken broth for a week, no matter what I say. Luckily, I was never a sickly child to begin with, and as I did not attend school, I avoided most viruses children catch year after year. The only cold or flu I got were the ones Harry or Marvin brought home, which was not that often. I can also say this about Harry, he never cheaped out on medication where I was concerned. He would buy any syrup, pill, vitamin, antibiotics, etc. to ensure I got back on my feet as quickly as possible.

Harry also unfortunately, took charge of my "physiotherapy", if I could call it that. I'm not sure where he got his instructions from, but once my cast came off, he would sit with me two to three times a day, and make me go through a series of exercises. At first, it was nothing too complicated, just a lot of bending, lifting and stretching my arm, but Harry steadily increased the difficulty by applying resistance to my movements. The exercises were not hard, they were ridiculously simple, but my healed forearm could hardly keep up. As a result, no matter how much I tried, Harry was never satisfied. I was always too slow, did not try hard enough or could not perfectly replicate the movement he had just showed me. He nagged, insisted and pushed me hard every day. Most of the time, these sessions left me aching, and seething with rage. I think Harry did that on purpose, welcomed it even. After the gun incident, I had become unusually silent. As often as Harry had told me to "shut up", I think my silence worried him even more.

Marvin gave me a stuffed animal.

Harry tried a different approach.

I'm not sure which one was more effective.

"Okay, kid; give me ten more." instructed Harry, carefully watching my every move.

I had just finished the latest of a series of flexions he had given me, and had hoped this session would be over. I knew arguing would be useless, so I bit back my complaints, forgot how tired my arm felt, and got started on my new. As an additional challenge, Harry pressed two of his fingers down the can I was holding. My arm trembled under the effort as I brought my arm up once, twice, but then gave out.

"You gotta do better than that, kid! Come on, try!

– I am trying! What's it look like, dummy!"

The moment the insult slipped, I wanted to take it back. Harry's expression darkened. He slowly raised a finger menacingly.

"What did I say about talking back to me?"

Locking eyes with Harry, the strangest thing happened; instead of cowering in fear, I grew defiant. Without hesitation, I turned my hand over and dropped the can I was holding on his foot.

"Oops."

There was not even a hint of remorse in my voice. I guess I should be thankful Harry had been wearing his shoes. For a second, I could've sworn I saw a flash of amusement in Harry's eyes, but I might've imagined it, because when he spoke, his tone was a threatening as ever.

"Pick. It. Up. Now!"

Sensing I might have overstepped my bounds, I retrieved the can from under the table, expecting a slap at any second. True, Harry hadn't lifted a finger on me since the storage room incident, but I had been careful not to give him any reason to correct me. Until today, that was. As if reading my mind, Harry told me, shaking his head:

"I swear, kid; you're just asking for me to take my belt out on you. See if I don't!"

Fear settled in the pit of my stomach, but Harry pointed back to the chair:

"Sit down and start over."

I knew better than to disobey, even when Harry added two more series of exercises to our routine. I was almost done when Marvin walked in the kitchen, a notepad in hand, and sat down at the table with us. Marvin never interfered in my sessions with Harry. He was content with asking Harry about my progress once in a while, and that was about it. It didn't take me long to notice how preoccupied Marvin looked; he kept fidgeting in his chair, and drumming his fingers on the table. I suppose he didn't want to disrupt us, but his nervousness was distracting.

"Marv, would you knock it off; what's wrong with you?" finally asked Harry.

I did not know what to make of Marvin's expression as he answered on a weird tone:

"We got a call today about a new job.

– What kind of job?" replied Harry, while helping me lift my arm, and rotate my shoulder.

"Replacing some old gravity furnace.

– How old?

– Original furnace, 1920's house."

I lost interest in the conversation as soon as I realized this was about work. I couldn't stand my parents talking about their work, and they got to travel, attend and host dinner parties. Then again, it wasn't as if I had anything better to do then to listen to them. Besides, this news brought a smile to Harry's face. I relaxed a bit, sensing his good mood.

"That'll bring in a least three grand! Four, or even five if we can convince them that their ducts are covered in asbestos. When did you schedule the estimate?"

Marvin did not even crack a smile. That was unusual.

"I didn't schedule it.

– Uh? Why not?

– Cause that's the address." answered Marvin, holding out the note pad for Harry to read.

I wasn't really paying attention to their discussion until I saw the chock register on Harry's face. That was different! I tried to read what Marvin had written down, but Harry handed him the notepad before I could see anything.

"Are you serious?

– You can't make that stuff up."

"Why… I mean how…"

I don't recall ever seeing Harry so flabbergasted. I was itching to ask what this was about, but I could sense I was very close to being sent to the storage room. So I stayed silent, picked the rocks Harry had got me as part of our sessions and rolled them around in my hands just as he showed me, hoping they would let something slip. Marvin nervously tapped his food under the table.

"So we're going to turn it down, right? Or would that look suspicious?

– Well yeah, we have to turn it down." Somehow, Harry did not sound convinced.

I stopped rolling the rocks around and looked up at my captors in curiosity. Since my arrival, I had never seen them decline any job offer. They must've been good at what they did because their weeks were usually full.

"It is four grand…" reflected Marvin thoughtfully.

From what I knew of Harry and Marvin, they have never been poor. They didn't make as much money as my parents did, that's for sure, but they did well for themselves, and did not live from paychecks to paychecks. Since my impromptu kidnapping, they had put their burglar activities on hold for a time, but they didn't seem to feel the pinch. They liked money, no doubt about that, not enough to answer my mother's offer, but it didn't sound like them to pass up on an easy-grab.

"What did you tell them?" asked Harry.

"That we would call back tomorrow after we were done with another job.

– Good thinking." approved Harry, rubbing his chin. "But, say…say we take the job. Do you think we could handle it?"

Both of them turned to me, and it was my turn to fidget.

"We've handled a lot in the past months…" mumbled Marvin. "We only get that kind of job once or twice a year…"

I was getting bored again. I didn't see what the big deal was; they clearly wanted the job, so I didn't understand their hesitation. In in the end, I made my peace of never solving this mystery, and let my mind wander, looking out the window. I never liked early spring. The snowy fields had been replaced by yellowish brown grass, and there was mud everywhere. There were no leaves on the trees yet, making the forest look sick. The view was depressing; there wasn't much for me to look at. Not even a squirrel or deer in the distance.

Looking out the window, I was the first to notice it. I suddenly sat up straight.

A car had pulled up in the driveway.

And not just any car, it was a police car.

I opened my mouth to scream for help, but one look at Harry, and I closed it hastily. He was sitting right next to me, and would have his hand wrapped around my throat before anyone in that car could hear a sound.

My instinct did save me, though not in the way I had anticipated it would. A tough looking policeman stepped out of the car, slamming the door shut. That's what got Marvin's attention. He did a double take, and stood up so fast his chair fell back.

"Cop!" he hissed in alarm.

As predicted, Harry got a hold of me even before Marvin's chair had hit the floor. He pulled me to my feet, making me drop the rocks in alarm, but one look at the policeman and Harry regained his composure.

"Damn it, Marv; it's just Sid!"

Marvin still looked a little shaky.

"What do we do with the kid?"

Harry pushed me toward Marvin.

"If Sid drove all the way up here, he already knows. I'll take care of this." said Harry as he walked over to the kitchen door. "Just make sure he behaves."

Marvin ushered me into the living room as Harry opened the door before the policeman could even knock.

"Charlie couldn't keep his mouth shut, could he?" were Harry's first words.

"Now, Harry; is that any way to say hello? We need to talk. Got any beer?"

 _Charlie_. The mere mention of Harry's brother was enough to worry me, though I would come to fear Sid's name much more after that day. All I knew at that moment was that I probably shouldn't expect any help from this new comer if he had anything to do with Charlie.

Marvin sat next to me on the couch and flipped the channels at random before settling on some baseball game. He pretended not to, but I could tell he was listening to the conversation in the kitchen. I couldn't help but whisper to him:

"Is that the cop who bought the camping stuff?

I had yet to learn the golden rule of any good burglars, never invite buying clients back to your own house. That was just asking for trouble.

"What? No." confirmed Marvin. After a few seconds of hesitation, he added begrudgingly "Sid is Harry's older brother. His _mean_ older brother, so hush."

Another brother. I felt uneasy upon hearing this. Over time, I would learn that Harry, not unlike me, had two older brothers, Sid and Charlie, and a younger one, named Leo. Leo is the only one I would never meet. Unlike his older siblings, he sounded relatively harmless, making a living selling life insurance which, according to Harry, made him the one true crook of the family. Leo and Harry weren't exactly close, though I came to understand that is was through him that Harry had befriended Marvin years ago.

Sid's deep and lazy voice reached us, and I just knew I wouldn't like this man.

"What'd do with the uniform I gave you?

– It's around. You drove all the way out here to get it back? You know you could've just called."

Sid laughed. It wasn't a pleasant laugh.

"Harry, Harry, Harry what have you been up to?" taunted Sid "Charlie and you have always been plotting, always up to no good, but now Charlie thinks you got yourself in deep trouble, and I have to agree. From thief to kidnapper, you sure came a long way.

– Yeah well, we're handling it.

– This isn't going to blow over, you know. His parents aren't letting this die down."

I perked up, while Marvin scowled next to me. In the kitchen, Sid kept going:

"They're telling their sob story to every journalist that will listen. Hell, they're holding fucking candle vigils all over Chicago. He even made national news.

– I'm telling you, we're handling it." repeated Harry on a much colder tone.

"You had better. My department is under enough fire over this. No brother of mine can be involved, do you understand?

– We've got everything under control. Why is your department feeling the heat anyway?

– Oh, you're going to love this" sneered Sid "turns out one of my officers was sent over to the house on the day those morons left for Paris to fetch the brat. Let's just say he was less than thorough.

– Fuck, seriously? I could kill that guy!

– Take a number. The guys are furious with him for making us look like a bunch of idiots, the Commissioner wants to make an example of him to try and salvage the department's reputation, and the parents' lawyers are clamouring for all of our heads. And in case you haven't been keeping up with the news lately, the public opinion is not exactly on our side in all this. Anyway, the jerk's on stress leave pending investigation from I.A.

– Stress leave… fucking bullshit, _I_ could use a stress leave!"

I am still confused by Sid's statement. According to him, a policeman had been sent to my house, but surely I would remember such visit if it had even taken place! Either the policeman in question was lying and never came to my house, or he didn't try very hard to find me. I lost track of the conversation as I searched my memory. The only policeman I remember seeing was the one who had chased me in the park, and that couldn't be it.

I then felt Marvin tense up next to me and I was drawn back into the conversation.

"You guys are lucky they've got no files on you! You left your DNA all over the place! And no gloves? What the hell, Harry! I expected better from you two after all these years! Again, lucky what looks like a hundred people went through that house in the days leading to your little stunt. C.S.I. are still processing and sorting all the prints.

– So, no leads, then?" Harry actually sounded cheerful while my heart sank.

"The only lead I got was a call from Charlie. You're in the clear, for now. I'll make sure some of the evidence gets lost, but I'll need some time. Until then, do not get so much as a parking ticket got it?

– Get off your high horse Sid, don't act as if Marv and I didn't make plenty of stuff disappear for you too.

– Isn't that for family is for?"

Harry and his brother talked of this and that for a few minutes, and just when I was starting to think Sid was about to leave, he asked:

"So, Harry; aren't you going to introduce me?

– What? You mean to the kid?"

Marvin looked over to the kitchen, pursing his lips.

"You don't even like kids, and last I checked, the feeling was mutual.

– Come on; let's have a look at the brat. Where do you keep him anyway? The shed?"

Marvin cursed under his breath, which led me to believe he did not like Sid any more than I did.

"Marv, I don't want to see him." I whispered, hoping he would spare me this meeting.

But then Harry called me over into the kitchen, and I knew I had already lost that battle.

"Stay quiet and close to Harry" Marvin whispered. "Don't make Sid angry." were his final words as he led me back to the kitchen.

Sounded like good advice. Sid was in full police uniform, just like Harry was on the night I first saw him. Unlike Harry however, Sid did not possess the natural charm of his brother that got everyone, including my own parents, to spill out information they would've normally kept to themselves. One look at Sid and anyone knew not to mess with him. He was taller than Harry and completely bald with huge hands and a nasty looking scar running from his left cheek down his neck. All of that I could've ignored if it weren't for his eyes. They were dead cold as he appraised me over his glass of beer. I didn't like it.

"So this is the kid?" said Sid as I made my way to Harry's side.

"How many kids do you think I have lying around? Of course that's the kid!"

Marvin got himself a beer as well, but hung back at the kitchen counter, and did not sit with Harry and his brother.

"And you just let him walk around unrestrained?

– He's just a kid, Sid. I think we can deal."

Sid smirked at that.

"Tell me, boy; I heard you had an accident, what happened to your arm?" he asked with a nasty grin plastered on his face.

I automatically repeated the lie I had heard Harry use on Tony. I did not need to look at Harry to know Sid had better never find out about my little escape attempt.

"I fell down the stairs."

Sid snorted and winked at Harry.

"Sure you did. I see you got him good and under a tight leash. That's comforting."

Looking back at me, Sid then surprised me with his next question:

"Do you know what happened to Harry's hand?"

Now I was truly stumped, and did not know how to respond. There was no way I would ever tell Sid the truth about Harry's hand! Thankfully, Harry himself saved me the trouble of answering.

"What is this, an interrogation? I burned myself on the job, end of story. Why are you making a big deal out of it?

– Why are you trying to hide it?

– It was a beginner's mistake. It's beneath me to fall for something that dumb."

I'm not sure Sid believed Harry's story, but he left it at that. Addressing himself once more to me, Sid motioned me to come closer.

"Come here, boy. Let me look at you."

I did not move from my position next to Harry, and Marvin's the one who spoke-up.

"What are you playing at, Sid? Leave the kid alone.

– Stay out of it Merchants! No one asked you!" snarled Sid, shooting him a look of pure loathing which Marvin returned.

"Careful Sid, remember what happened last time you tried to meddle in our business?" Marvin warned him, a humourless smile playing on his lips.

I saw Sid scratch scar with his thumb as his expression soured.

"I'm not about to forget, Merchants.

– Oh will you two grow up!" cut-in Harry, annoyed.

I was wrong to assume Marvin did not like Sid. Marvin _hated_ him. There was bad blood between those two going years back. I asked Marvin about it a couple of times, but his answers were always vague.

"What the hell is _his_ problem, anyway?" growled Sid "Don't tell me he got attached to your new pet!"

Sid laughed at his own little joke, but no one else joined in. A pet? It took me a few seconds to realise Sid was talking about me. Just who did he think he was! I wasn't a dog or some kind of stray! Forgetting Marvin's advice, I snapped back at him:

"I am not a pet!"

Harry got a hold on my arm.

"Marv, get him back upstairs, will ya?

– No, no, Harry. Let the boy talk." laughed it off Sid. "He's got spunk!

– Yeah, and he bites too." darkly muttered Marvin, but Sid ignored him.

"You're not scared, are you boy?

There was a malevolent spark in Sid's dark eyes, but I ignored the warning signs, and stepped forward until I was standing in front of him. I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't for Sid to bring out a hand and raise my chin.

"Blue eyes, huh?"

I pulled away and glared. Sid had only been commenting on the colour of my eyes, but for some reason, it put me on edge.

"Well aren't you the cutest little thing." crooned Sid, curling his lips back in an intimidating smile.

No eight-year-old wants to hear anyone remark on how cute they are, and definitely not using that tone. It almost made me shiver.

"How old is he?" I remember him suddenly asking.

– I don't know; eight, nine, why do you care?" cautiously answered Harry.

"You know, some people would be willing to pay a shit load of money to get their hands on a little blond boy with blue eyes" tossed in Sid.

His words filled me with dread. I was too young to understand what he meant, but I was smart enough to know it wasn't good. Behind Sid, Marvin stopped fiddling with his beer bottle, and stared at him in what I can only identify as disgust. I looked up Harry's face, but could not read his expression.

"And your point is?

– My point is, be smart, Harry. So you don't want to kill the boy, I get it! But you don't really want to be stuck with him, do you? You're in luck, some people wouldn't mind taking him off your hands, no questions asked. You could probably score more over this than you would in a lifetime of robbing houses, with the right… introductions, of course. Everybody knows blond hair and blue eyes is _the_ winning combo.

– Is that so? You ever done this before?

– Little kids don't just fall in my lap, but I know people."

Looking at me once again, he added with mocked concern:

"Tsk, tsk tsk, what were your parents thinking, leaving you behind? Tell me boy, do you think your mom and dad wanted to get rid of you?

– That's enough, Sid!" shouted Harry.

But it was too late. I already felt the sting of tears behind my eyes. I angrily bit my tongue and lowered my eyes to keep my tears from falling. I refused to cry. Not now! Instead, I focused on my anger.

"Oh, come now, Harry; I'm just messing with the boy, no harm done. But seriously, it's too bad you couldn't snatch the blond girl too, they would've made an adorable set, and fetched hefty a price."

 _Linnie_ … My blood boiled at hearing him talk about my sister that way.

"Shut up, you fucking big horse's ass!"

Not the best of insults, I'll admit, but it got Sid to stop smiling. I think that was the first time I ever used the "f" word. I could hardly be blamed; it wasn't as if Harry or Marvin ever held back in front of me. Curses are just one of their many bad habits I picked up, though Sid did not appreciate it. His eyes clouded with anger, and he leaned closer to me.

"What did you just call me?" the laziness had all but disappeared from his voice.

I probably shouldn't have, I don't even know what came over me as I spat:

"I'm sorry."

I had infused my words with as much sarcasm as I could, and to top it all off, I gave Sid the finger, smirking all the while. Sid's face twisted in fury.

"Why, you little shit." he said in a low tone, not unlike Harry's.

I didn't even see him move. I just caught a movement down the corner of my eye and the next thing I knew, his fist was in my face. I felt the force of the blow behind the punch and would've ended up with a broken jaw, if not worst, had Harry not pulled me out of his brother's reach, and knocked his fist out of the way.

"That's enough, Sid. Time to go."

Sid got up, kicking his chair back in anger.

"You don't seriously think I'm going to let that slide!

Next to me, Harry sounded unconcerned.

"My house, my rules, Sid. I'll deal with the kid myself.

– Don't tell me you've gone soft!

– I don't know, Sid. You wanna have a go at me and find out?"

Harry's tone remained friendly enough, but I saw how Sid didn't seem so sure of himself all of a sudden.

"Whatever, Harry. Think about what I said. Think about the money.

– Just out of curiosity, Sid; what does Charlie say about your new idea for a money scheme?"

Sid glared at Harry, but did not answer.

"That's what I thought. Go."

Muttering to himself, Sid left, slamming the kitchen door behind him. Harry remained silent until his brother's police car had disappeared down the road. I watched it as well, hardly believing that such a man was allowed to wear a police uniform. Harry might have dressed up like a policeman, but Sid was the real thing. Of the two of them, I knew where my best chances stood. It should come as no surprise that I lost fate, not only in adults, but the police force as well. In the years that would follow, even when the opportunity came up, I always remembered Sid, and I never asked or sought help from the authorities.

My anger and shock slowly drained away as I found myself, once again, alone with my captors. I did not feel half as brave as I had a few minutes earlier. Harry let go of me.

"Marv, we need to talk.

– No." Marvin's response was sharp and final. "We're not talking about that. Sid is sick, and he doesn't come near the kid ever again.

– That's not what I meant!" replied Harry with impatience "That new job, we're taking it."

– Really? What changed your mind?

– Sid, what else! Once he sets his mind on something… We're going to need cash. Call them back, we're taking that job. We'll also need to go over our papers and licenses. I want them all in order, just in case."

Harry then spoke to me sternly.

"And you…I don't know if I should teach you better manners, or better insults.

I breathed more easily. I was getting to know Harry, and there was no real bite behind his words.

"Did you see the look on Sid's face when the kid told him to fuck off." chuckled Marvin. "It was priceless!"

I looked at Marvin in wonder; he actually sounded proud!

"Don't get any ideas, kid. If you ever talk to Marv or to me like that, you _will_ be sorry." warned Harry.

I nodded, relieved to see Harry was letting me off easy. Sid's words, however, were not so easy to dismiss. They frightened me and still do. I shudder to think of what might have become of me had Harry and Marvin been so devoid of conscience or greedy enough to consider Sid's offer.

You got to be thankful for small mercies, I guess.


	10. Chapter 9

_Hello everyone!_

 _To answer your question, yes Sid should return in future chapters, but only when Kevin will be a little older._

 _As for the name of Harry's younger brother, I had no idea Joe Pesci once played a character named Leo. I have not seen Leather Weapon, but it is on my "to watch" list._

 _As usual, thank you very much for all you reviews and on with the story!_

Chapter 9

Something was going on.

Following Sid's visit, Harry and Marvin had started planning something, I did not know what. They would have discussions I was not privy to late into the night. I saw them counting money, taking the inventory of whatever was left of their burglaries, and taking out their most prized items out of storage. They studied maps, compared calendars, made extensive lists, and filled all kinds of forms. Harry kept fretting over the mail, and Marvin started tuning the old car they never used. Both of them grew irritable, and had no patience to satisfy my curiosity. They made their position quite clear early on, making me chose between watching television, or being locked in the storage room. The choice was an easy one.

I have now gone through this routine often enough to prepare myself for what's coming. As I got older, they would sometimes discuss it with me, not that my opinion mattered, but it's nice to talk things out. I don't think about it that much or worry over it anymore, but back then, that was a different story. Any change in Harry or Marvin's behaviour spelled out danger, danger I came to associate with one or the other of Harry's brothers. I was not entirely wrong. Harry's older brothers do have a nasty habit of turning my life upside down.

At first, I thought this had something to do with this new job they had been so reluctant to accept. They did seem more tired than usual, and were less talkative since they had started working on this new contract, but that did not explain all the whispering and scheming I was observing. Whenever they weren't talking to each other, I would feel their eyes on me, following me around; Harry with studied concentration, and Marvin in silent expectation.

Something was going on, and I didn't like it one bit.

Being left in the dark, both figuratively and sometimes literally, was very stressful. Regardless of what had happened, I had not given up hope of finding my way back home. I desperately needed to know how whatever they were planning would affect me, or my chances of being reunited with my family. In the end, it all came down to one question, the question I had been asking since the moment I woke up in their van, and that they had never answered: what were they going to do with me?

It never crossed my mind that Harry and Marvin might have no idea what they were doing, or might be making everything up as they went. They were adults; I assumed they had a plan. Adults always had plans!

In my childish mind, I saw their refusal to take me home as nothing more than revenge for what I had put them through on Christmas Eve. I had been naughty, and had been punished. They wouldn't keep me forever. They couldn't.

Marvin had tried to explain, perhaps a little too hastily, that there was no going back for me, but I was too young, and much too stubborn to understand.

Not yet.

But I was about to.

The two of them still scared me, especially Harry. He might've stood between his brother and me, but I was not about to forget how he held that gun to my head. Marvin was more lenient with me, true, but if I wanted to go home, Harry was the one I needed to convince. How, I wasn't sure, but I at least wanted to know what their plans were. I had to choose my moment with care; I needed them in a good mood, and this new routine of theirs was not helping; Harry and Marvin were in no frame of mind to listen to anything I had to say. So I waited, making note of their behaviour. This lasted well over a week, a nerve-wreaking week for all of us, until their contract was over and done with.

I remember that day, not only because they returned home early in the afternoon with a bottle of bourbon to celebrate, which was unusual in itself, but also because an envelope came in the mail. This was the package Harry had been so anxiously waiting for. I watched him with mild interest open the large envelope, his smile widening as he took in its content.

"A little present, courtesy of Charlie." he said to Marvin, handing him the documents.

I had been reading some sports magazine, and eating apple slices at the kitchen table, but my head snapped back up at the name. I was instantly on my guard, and looked at the envelope in distrust.

"No way!" marveled Marvin, going over the content of the envelope "They look real, it's perfect!

– That's the beauty of it, Marv, the info might be off, but these _are_ real."

Marvin whistled in admiration.

"Got to hand it to Charlie, when you ask for something, he really delivers.

– Consider it a token of his appreciation.

– Well these will make things easier, that's for sure."

Marvin returned the documents in the envelope, and put it away on one of the shelves where they kept their bills.

I had to bite down my lips to refrain myself from asking what Charlie had sent. I didn't want to spoil Harry and Marvin's good mood with my questions. I was still very naïve, but I was learning.

Harry and Marvin moved their celebration to the dining room. We never used that room to have dinner, the kitchen table was fine for the three of us, and it's not like Harry and Marvin entertained guests very often. They used the dining room's space to research their favorite hobby: burglaries. They had books and magazines on about every subject, from electronics to precious stone, power tools and cars. Not going to lie, it is impressive to watch how, with one quick look, they can accurately assess the worth of pretty much anything in a house. A useful talent when they're in a hurry.

That day, they shoved their notebooks and magazines to the side, took out a deck of cards, poured themselves generous drinks, and set out to play some card game or another. I sat at the other end of the table, listening to them reminiscing about some past heist, while flipping through one of Marvin's vintage cars books. I did not understand all the technical terms, but that did not keep me from admiring the pictures. It would still be a few years before I learned to share Marvin's passion for cars. He once told me how he came across a 1969 Bugatti sitting in the garage of a house they were ransacking. I wish I'd been there! Marvin flooded the house, but he didn't touch the car. He had too much respect for it to deface such an invaluable piece, and he knew he would never be able to resell it at a fair price without raising dangerous questions. Now I _know_ stealing is wrong, but I can't help regretting Marvin never brought back one of those spectacular models, just for the thrill of driving them around for a few days. Too bad those would draw too much attention; Marvin would never risk it, now less than ever.

I tried to concentrate on the pictures, I really did, but I had a little too much on my mind. Asking questions was getting me nowhere, and I was sick and tired of it; Time to get creative. So they wouldn't tell me was what going on, there were other ways of finding out, I just had to be patient. I let them get comfortable, waited until Harry and Marvin were in the middle of their game, and have had a few drinks, before asking:

"Can I have some paper?

– What are you talking about, you got paper right over there." pointed Harry.

"I've already drawn on them, both sides!

– There's plenty of space left on that page." commented Marvin, throwing some cards back on the table.

"That's my spaceship; I can't draw a racetrack next to a spaceship!"

Marvin smiled, like my statement wasn't entirely logical.

"No, I suppose that would not do. Fine, go get some paper from the kitchen, you know where it is."

I did not move from my seat, watching as Harry shot Marvin a pointed look. I was getting pretty good at predicting their reactions.

"Marv, maybe _you_ should get it.

– Oh would you relax, the doors are locked, and he can't run very far in his socks. We're just a few feet away."

Harry did give in, but with a warning:

"Don't try anything funny."

This was exactly what I had been hoping for. I tried my best not to look too triumphant as I walked past them into the kitchen. By force of habit, my eyes found the door, but its triple locks were in place, just as Marvin had said they would be. No matter, running away had not been my intention.

I looked up the kitchen shelves where they kept a neat pile of paper, and right next to it, the envelop Charlie had sent. I was too small to reach it, so I climbed on the counter. Looking nervously over my shoulder to make sure I was still alone, I grabbed the envelope and opened it. There was no letter, just a bunch of documents and some plastic cards at the very bottom. As I did not have much time, I left the cards alone.

I looked at the first few documents, almost afraid of what I might discover, but found nothing more than trade licenses from all over the country. I sighed in relief. It would be a few years before I realized how uncommon it was to have that many licenses from so many states. At the time, I actually found those documents reassuring. They might not answer any of my questions, but they didn't seem too dangerous either.

That envelope contained much more than work licenses, however. As I kept flipping through the documents, I came across something else altogether. Near the bottom of the pile, printed in bold letters was a marriage certificate dating back to May 1980. What's more, I was bemused to find Marvin's name on the certificate with that of a "Catherine Myriam Sylberman".

That struck me as strange; I did not know he was married. And who was this Catherine, anyway? Marvin never mentioned her, and there were no wedding pictures anywhere in the house. He didn't even weir a wedding band!

I decided not to dwell on it too long, and I quickly skipped to the next document. It was yet another certificate, but this time it was a death certificate for Catherine Myriam Sylberman, dating back almost a year ago. I could already tell there was something wrong, but I was missing the big picture. Why would Charlie send these documents to Harry and Marvin?

The next page did not answer my question. Not right away, anyway. I read the information over and over, at first confused, then slowly growing cold with fear as I realized what Charlie had done.

I was looking at a birth certificate.

A birth certificate for "Kevin Daniel Merchants", born to Catherine Myriam Sylberman and Marvin Samuel Merchants at Mont Sinai Hospital in Cook County, Chicago.

I didn't want to understand what I was looking at. I kept on reading, hoping to find something, anything, to quell the horrible feeling I had, only to receive what felt like a punch to the guts when I saw the date of birth: December 24, 1982. In retrospective, that was a nice touch, really goes to show Harry had a sense of humour after all.

The information was all wrong, but I was a smart kid, it didn't take me long to put two and two together. Charlie had provided Harry and Marvin with a brand new identity for me. I might've had no clue what they had in store for me, but, as I sat there on the kitchen counter, it slowly began to dawn on me that I might never go home.

"I thought I'd find you armed to the teeth with half the kitchen knives by now."

I nearly fell off the counter when Harry spoke next to me. I had not even realized he was in the room; Harry could be quiet as a mouse when he really wanted to.

"You shouldn't snoop around, that'll get you in trouble."

He didn't look angry or even annoyed, like I would've expected him to be. If anything, Harry looked at me with… curiosity. He gently pried the documents from my hands. I didn't even try to hold on to them. When I found my voice, all I could say was:

"That's not my name."

"You don't like it? Kevin Merchants has a nice ring, don't you think?"

I shook my head.

"That's not my name.

– Kevin Merchants is your _new_ name." corrected Harry. "You'll get used to it."

I felt myself trembling; I'm not sure whether out of fear or anger. A little of both might've been the answer. Baring my teeth, I hissed back:

"That's not my name. My name is McCallister! And that's _not_ my birthday!"

My objection to my new birthday did seem to amuse Harry.

"December 24 suits you perfectly. Makes sense too. You are a child of Christmas.

– I am not! My birthday is in August!"

Why did I argue with Harry? What was I hoping to achieve, I wonder. There was no point, what was done was done, and did it really matter what was written on that piece of paper? At the time, it felt crucial; I did not see how I was only hurting myself. The harder I protested, the more resolute Harry grew.

"Kevin McCallister was born in August. You're Kevin Merchants now, and you were born on Christmas Eve.

– Stop it! That's not my name!

– What's wrong with Merchants?"

Harry feigned not to understand my anguish at this discovery, which only upset me.

"I hate it!" I screamed in his face.

"Don't say that, you'll hurt Marv's feelings, and you don't want to do that, you're family now."

Marvin. Marvin _Merchants_. I suddenly felt weak, and had to grip the counter to keep from falling. It was worse than when Harry had struck me. Of course I had read the information on the birth certificate, but it was only after Harry mentioned it that I realized how Charlie had given me much more than a new name and birthday.

"God, what's he screaming about now, Harry?"

The moment Marvin stepped into the kitchen, I saw red. To imply that _this_ man could in any way compare to my father was nothing less than an insult. I grabbed a glass on the counter next to me and threw it at him, screaming:

"You're not my dad!"

The glass shattered at Marvin's feet, making him jumped back, his eyes wide with surprise at the attack.

"What the hell! What was that for?"

Again, I expected Harry to lash out at my outburst¸ but he didn't.

"That's enough, kid. You know we don't like the screaming." was all he said.

Seeing the documents in Harry's hand, it didn't take Marvin long to figure out the cause of my anger.

"Why'd you show him that; No wonder he's freaking out!

– How stupid do you think I am, Marv? I didn't show him anything. You know just as well as I do that the kid's too clever for his own good; he found out on his own."

How I regretted not having the good sense to tear those documents to shreds when I had the chance. Taking advantage of Harry's distraction, I leaped off the counter and made a dash for the envelope. Harry was quick to react and was able to keep the documents out of my reach. Lucky me, I suppose; Harry would've beaten me senseless had I destroyed them.

"What do you think you're doing kid? These are expensive, you know!

– They're lies!

– Just a little. You start a new life with us; you get a new name to go with it.

– I don't want a new life, I don't want a new name, I wanna go home!"

Instead of answering me, Harry turned to Marvin:

"I thought you said you settled this.

– I did!" protested Marvin. Frowning down on me, he replied a little more harshly than I was used to: "We talked about that, kid. This is your home, now knock it off!

– No it's not! Stop saying that!"

This was so frustrating, I wanted to stomp my foot in frustration, no I wanted to _hurt_ them. Hurt them like I had never hurt anyone before, hurt them so they'd take me home. Even while setting up the traps to protect my house had I not been driven by this desire to hurt either of them. This was not a good feeling.

I was not the only one trying to hold my temper in check. Marvin looked like he was at the end of his rope with my lack of cooperation. He walked over, his shoes crushing the glass shards on the floor around him.

"Now you listen, kid-"

But then Harry raised a hand, holding him back. In my anger, I had not been paying too much attention to him. Big mistake. Harry had that sly expression I would one day become so wary of.

"Your mother did say you were a handful."

By alluding to my mother, Harry was probably just testing my reactions. His instinct did not fail him; at the mere mention of her, all will to fight deserted me.

"You saw my mom?"

"A nice lady, your mother. Very busy, but nice.

– You didn't see her." I tried to deny, getting angry again "When did you see her?

– Every day this week. At work."

I felt my eyes widen as I understood what had got them so worked up about their latest job, why they had been so nervous all week long. Voicing Harry's unsaid words, I stated, more than asked:

"You changed the furnace? The one in our basement?"

The old furnace that scared me so. How strange to think it was gone forever. Stranger still to think Harry and Marvin had been the ones to remove it.

"Smart kid." smiled Harry in approval. "They cleaned up the house nicely after your little pranks. They were almost able to remove all the tar from the stairs, right Marv?"

From the look on Marvin's face, I could tell he did not know where Harry was going with this, but he played along.

"They should've just taken out those planks, you ruined them.

– Well, his mother did say he was trouble. More trouble than all of his siblings put together."

That statement was a real slap to the face. Even more so given that my mother had told me as much the last time I had seen her. Hearing those words from Harry's mouth made it all the more painful. I shouldn't have listened to him; I did not see how he was only baiting me. Those little mind games were Harry's specially, and I fell right for it.

"I'm not trouble!

– Oh, I think we all know you're a _little_ trouble. Isn't that why your family was giving you such a hard time? How they ended up leaving you behind in the first place? They weren't very nice with you, were they?"

Sometimes I forget how much Harry had heard and seen that night he first came to the house. I did not answer him, that last exchange with my family was not something I enjoyed revisiting. I hated to be reminded he had witnessed any of that.

"Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps they left you behind because you were causing so much trouble in the first place?

– No."

I was lying through my teeth, and I could tell Harry knew it. Of course the idea had crossed my mind. How could it not after Marvin's enlighten little chat a few months back?

"What makes you so sure they'd even want you back?"

Raising my chin, I did not even think my answer over:

"They want me back. Sid said so!"

Harry smirked.

"Word to the wise, kid; you shouldn't listen to everything Sid says. He hasn't seen your family, or spoken with any of them.

– They want me back!"

Even to my own ears it sounded like I was clinging to those words. I knew I could sometimes be a pain, but I never would've thought my family would turn its back on me. Then again I never thought they would abandon me either. So where did that leave me? So where did that leave me? Shifting gear smoothly, Harry then remarked:

"You have your mother's eyes, you know. All you siblings have blue eyes, but I think only you and your brother Jeff have the exact hue of your mother's blue.

I could only stare at Harry. It was not the first time that I had heard this remark. Was it Aunt Leslie or Heather that had mentioned it to my mother? I could not recall, it was a long time ago, and at the time, it sounded like such a trivial detail. Harry could not have just guessed this information, which meant…

"You saw Jeff?

– Oh yes, in the mornings, before he left for school. He's really excited about finally getting his own room. Just like your older brother… what's his name? The one with the tarantula?

– Buzz." I answered, my shoulders dropping.

"Buzz, that's right. The girls are really jealous."

I struggled with how to react to this piece of information. I had heard my siblings bicker time and again over the fact that Buzz, as the elder, was the only one who didn't have to share his room. Jeff was very touchy about it; he used to say he had it worse since he had to share his room with the _baby_. There was no way Harry would just _know_ this.

"And your sister Megan, that's the brunette, right?" continued Harry with a cunning smile. "She has a new boyfriend. She has a lot time now that she doesn't have to watch over you every day after school. Freed up a lot of her schedule; think _she_ misses you?"

I didn't want to listen to what Harry had to say, but somehow I could not tear my eyes away from his pitch-black ones. Megan was always complaining about having to watch over me after school instead of going to the mall with her friends. Buzz had his sports practice, whether it be baseball, basketball or hockey, Linnie had private lessons with her math tutors, and Jeff always had some club or another to attend, which only left Megan. She did spend most of her time gossiping with her friends over the phone, or doing her nails, but she would also sometimes make me popcorn, and let me turn the living room couch into a fort where we would watch movies together.

"Hey Marv, do you remember the names of the chit's boyfriend?

– Joshua, she wouldn't shut up about it." replied Marvin now much more relaxed.

Joshua Reed. How many times had I heard Megan swoon over that boy? He was all Megan and her girlfriends would talk about whenever they had a sleepover, and Buzz used to tease her mercilessly about him.

"Why are you saying that?" I asked in a small voice.

Harry did have a point; he just wasn't done making it.

"I heard Buzz won some athletic scholarship. He hasn't so much as mentioned you once in the week we've been there. Of course, he's training all the time; your parents are _so_ proud. They went back to work, by the way. Your mom is working on a new collection, and your father just brought a new client to his firm, he'll be traveling to L.A. next week. He even promised to bring back a new Christmas ornament for your blond sister's collection. Cute tradition."

At Harry's words, I felt something in me break. My father would always bring _me_ a new Christmas ornament whenever he traveled because he knew how much I liked them. Linnie used to say that was dumb. Our father would bring her other trinkets, sometimes seashells, miniatures, or dolls, but never Christmas ornaments. Sensing my distress, Harry delivered the finishing blow.

"You see, kid; truth is no one is irreplaceable. Not even you."

I did not cry. I couldn't. I felt numb all over. How I wanted to believe everything Harry had just said was nothing more than lies, but doubt clouded my heart. Those details, he must've gotten them from somewhere. I had no answer, no clever comeback to shut out the ugly truth he had thrust upon me. Never had I felt more lost and alone. I couldn't take it anymore, and lowered my eyes to avoid Harry's piercing gaze.

For the first and only time ever, Harry knell down to my level, and raised my chin to better look at me as he said:

"Listen to me, kid. You really need to get this through your head; your family's moved on. Do you understand?"

I did not _want_ to understand, and could only whisper in fright:

"You can't keep me."

Cautiously gauging my reaction as he said this, Harry, replied firmly:

"We can, and we are. This is your home now."

Panic stricken, I faltered.

"You can't keep me. What about… What about school?"

A very silly and irrelevant argument, I know. I did not miss school, but what it represented: stability, a return to a normal life; a genuine concern for my eight-year-old self. Harry only smiled at my question, while Marvin openly laughed.

"Don't worry about school.

"Cheer up." grinned Marvin. "You should be happy! No more school!"

The new did not make me happy. I didn't miss the homework, the dictation tests, nor sitting for hours at a desk, but I did miss the company of other kids, and even my old, but so gentle teacher, Mrs. Ellis. I didn't say any of this aloud. I didn't know what to say anymore.

"This is your home." continued Harry. "Marv and me, we don't mind that you're a little trouble.

– Yeah, we're trouble ourselves." added Marvin.

"You belong with us now. And unlike your folks, we promise, we'll _never_ abandon you. We're not like most families, but we are family."

Family? Coming from Harry, the word sounded wrong, so very wrong.

"You're not! You…"

You held a gun to my head. You struck me. You screamed, yelled and threatened. All good and valid points. The only one I raised however was the one I had to struggle with every day:

"You keep me locked up." did I say, miserably.

I think the only reason I chose the storage room over all the other horrors was in hope of escaping it. Hope could be a powerful tool. Harry knew that, so he gave it to me.

"That all depends on you, really. Once we know we can trust you, we won't need to lock you anywhere. What do you say?"

He held out his hand for me to take, but I could only look at it, unsure if I should cry or scream. Harry didn't seem to mind my silence; he probably wasn't really expecting an answer. Taking my hand in his he led me back to the dining room where I numbly followed.

"Marv, didn't you buy some chocolate ice cream? The kid could use a bowl. Make it a big one."

To this day, I am unsure of what Harry saw and heard during his time spent working in my house. Knowing him as I do now, I can assume he twisted the truth to fit his purpose. He knew just how deep to cut to break the faith I had in my family.

Harry knew what he was doing.

I never asked to go home again.


	11. Chapter 10

_Hello!_

 _Sorry for the delay! On the bright side, this chapter is a little longer that the others. There were so many things I wanted to cover in this chapter, and it would seem I had underestimated the amount of writing required. Given how long this chapter was already, I'll save the rest for next chapter._

 _It is crazy, I think Home Alone in haunting me. I see it everywhere! And I do mean everywhere! Just yesterday, I was right in the middle of a briefing presentation when what should pop on screen? Kevin McCallister! The presenter had this elaborated metaphor involving Home Alone to explain his point, and all I could do was stare at the screen in total shock. And this keeps happening! It's just crazy! It reminds me when my thesis director told me I would one day be so possessed by my subject that I would see it everywhere. Well that's what's happening now with this fanfiction. Again, sorry for the long delays, please know that this story is very dear to me and I will always update as soon as possible._

Chapter 10

Harry's heart-to-heart discussion was never forgotten. In my souvenirs, it marked a turning point; the moment I stopped hoping someone would come along and free me from the burglars' clutches. I knew those were nothing more than dreams, vague fantasies that I avoided as much as I avoided thinking about my family. Not that I considered Harry and Marvin acceptable substitutes, but I was unsure where I stood anymore. And to make matters worse, the whispering did not stop. It was very unnerving to realize that even after everything that had transpired between us, Harry and Marvin still kept secrets from me. I could not take any more heartache and kept watching my new "family" with anxiety.

And then, Harry left.

It was not as sudden, as is sounds. I had observed Harry and Marvin for days, but for all their scheming, I had never expected Harry to pack and go. I was so used to being around the both of them that I did not know how to react when he mentioned he'd be gone for about a week or so, leaving me alone with Marvin.

I did not need to ask Harry why he was leaving; the reason behind his absence became apparent as soon as I saw him and Marvin pack the van with the remaining of their inventory. So this was business. I breathed more easily. Although it was not the first time Harry had taken a "business trip", it was the first time he'd be gone for days. It made me wonder why that was. I had so many questions back then and so little answers to go on, it's a wonder I didn't go insane!

Then again, my new life with Harry and Marvin was anything but conventional. They were always up to something, and their house was filled with real-life treasures. I wasn't allowed to touch anything as they finished wrapping some of the more delicate items and packed the van, but it didn't keep me from watching. I knew all that stuff was stolen, but it was fascinating to see what they had gathered over time. There was what looked like antique silverware, delicate china, paintings, selected jewelry Marvin had cleaned until they sparkled, designer purses and collections of jade and ivory. This wasn't their everyday booty, this was the _good_ stuff; Items that would fetch a small fortune, if they knew where and who to take it to. They had been saving those for quite some time until Harry chose to sell them.

I looked at the various objects with unconcealed curiosity. An ivory dagger with Celtic engravings had caught my eyes, but Harry and Marvin had made sure never to let it anywhere near me. I also would've liked to take a closer look at an old violin, but judging by how careful Harry handled it, I assumed it must be expensive. In all their packing, I had also spotted a golden pocket watch. No one I knew owned a pocket watch; it was one of those accessories I only saw in movies. I had seen Marvin oil the mechanism earlier that day, and it now sat in a velvet box on the side. I must have been staring at the watch for a while, or at least long enough for Marvin to take notice. First thing I knew, he had tossed the watch in my laps, winking. Despise myself, I was pleased with the gift, and took a closer look at the watch and chain. Marvin's gesture had not gone unnoticed by Harry.

"Marv, what are you doing? That Elgin is over a hundred years old; do you have any idea how much I could get for that?

– Yes, and the answer is not nearly as much as the rest of the stuff. Let the kid keep it, we can always sell it when he's gotten tired of it.

– I already have an interested buyer, what am I going to tell him?

– Tell him the truth, your kid wanted it.

– Unbelievable! This is no way to do business…"

As disgruntled as Harry sounded, he did not insist or try to take the watch away from me. This would often be their position when I showed interest in some of their booty. They would let me play with whatever I liked until I grew tired of it, or until they brought something more interesting. I didn't mind, seemed fair. But as far as the watch was concerned, joke was on them, I haven't given it up yet.

As I admired my new watch, I ventured to ask Harry where he was going.

"I already told you, kid. On business.

– On business where?

– Why do you ask so many questions all the time?"

I Harry probably wouldn't have liked the answer to this question, so I stayed silent, tracing the engraved pattern on the back of the watch with the tip of my finger. It didn't really matter whether Harry answered me or not; I could always ask Marvin after he'd left. I suppose Harry came to the same conclusion because he eventually said:

"I'm going to New York."

At the news, I momentarily forgot about the watch and looked up at Harry with envy. New York! That sounded amazing! Now _that_ was a business destination! I never had the opportunity to travel much; that trip to Paris I missed would've been my first. I knew my uncle Robert had a townhouse in New York, but we'd never been there. As my parents owned the most spacious house, they usually hosted all of our family gatherings. We would sometimes visit my grandmother Penelope, but she lived in a small town filled with retires where there wasn't much to see or do. It was no New York, that's for sure!

"Are you going to see the statue of liberty?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"I'm not going on holidays, kid. This is work. No time to play tourist. The statue's overrated anyway.

– Don't listen to Harry." mentioned Marvin as he collected a new box to load in the van. "He's been to New York too often to be impressed anymore; he's been to the statue years ago. Tell him, Harry.

– What do you want me to say? The river's dirty, it stinks, you have to get in line extra early in the morning to catch an overcrowded ferry and the climb to the crown takes forever."

Harry did no paint a very nice picture of what I considered to be an impressive landmark. Seeing the disappointment written on my face, Harry did end up confessing:

"And the view from the top makes it all totally worth it." Turning back to his list, he then added "We'll take you to New York in a few years, when you're older, and you'll see for yourself.

– You will?"

I am embarrassed by how hopeful I sounded. The idea of visiting New York, even if it was in a distant future brightened me up.

"When you're older," repeated Harry "I promise we'll take you."

Had Harry mentioned that he'd also take this opportunity to introduce me to Charlie, I probably wouldn't have looked forward to this trip. But that came later, much later. By then he and Marvin had taken my training well in hand. Then again, I don't think Harry was thinking that far ahead just yet, he probably though I would enjoy hearing this, and I did. For about a minute. Until it got me thinking about the future.

As a kid, the only time I used to vaguely think about the future was when adults would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I would always say a firefighter, or a detective. Those plans sure went down the drain after crossing Harry and Marvin's path, though it took me a while to realize it.

After going over his route one more time with Marvin, Harry bid me farewell, reminding me to behave in his absence. It might've also been his way of telling Marvin to stay vigilant around me.

"Don't think I won't find out if you give Marv a hard time, got it?

– Stop worrying Harry. We'll be fine; right, kid?"

Harry did not seem so sure. Before leaving, he gave me one last quick look.

"Hey Marv, do something about his hair, will ya? It's getting out of hand."

What was wrong with my hair? I would've told Harry my hair was just fine the way it was, but he had already gone.

And then it was just me and Marvin.

At first, I was not too sure about this, but it turned out to be one of the first real good moments I would spend with him. For the most part, anyway. Marvin did not take a single contract during Harry's absence, and spent most of the time at the house with me. That's not to say he wasn't busy; Marvin undertook what looked like, in my opinion, radical "spring cleaning". Every day, he would go through a new room or closet in the house, emptying them of their content, throwing away rubbish and useless things, keeping only the bare minimum. I helped, but I suspect it might have been a pretext to keep an eye on me. While our mornings were kept busy with cleaning, Marvin made sure the afternoons were more easy-going.

Harry might've gone on business, but Marvin still found ways to make it feel like a holiday. He let me disassemble an old toaster, and play with their glue gun and some broken pieces of china while he was working on the car. Best of all, he made me a slingshot! Marvin made it very clear that if I ever used it on Harry or him, I'd pay dearly, but that doesn't change the fact he gave me a slingshot! It was a lot harder than shooting a pellet gun, but Marvin lined up some empty cans for me to practice on in the garage as he worked.

In the evening, he would let me eat in front of the television. Again, Marvin was no cook, but I found no reason to complain when he presented me with pizza, fish sticks with fries, hamburgers, grilled cheese, and some lasagna Harry had left for us. He even managed to keep the amount of eggs to a minimum.

Harry called Marvin every night without fail, always around the same time. Their conversation only lasted long enough for them to make sure all was well on both fronts. Marvin would then disconnect the phone as soon as their call was over and take it back upstairs. He never said so, but I'm certain he remembered how I had tricked Harry a few months back and he was careful not to let his guard down, which is why I am still amazed by the amount of risk he took. Calculated risks, I am sure, but risks all the same.

A few days following Harry's departure, after getting his morning cleaning frenzy out of his system, Marvin surprised me by asking me if I wanted to take a walk outside. I had not left the house since our emergency trip to Detroit weeks earlier; I was dying for a chance to stretch my legs! I was so looking forward to some fresh air that it took me a moment to understand why Marvin was holding his hand out for me.

"You want to hold my hand? I'm not a baby you know."

I had good reasons to be upset. I would've been so humiliated if I'd been asked to hold any of my siblings' hand in public, or even my mother's, let alone some grown man! Marvin didn't care for my little ego.

"Either you hold my hand, or we don't go outside."

I hesitated, but not for long. It was such a beautiful day; one of the first warm days of spring when coats could be put aside. I had no intention of wasting the afternoon inside if an alternative was within my reach. Sighing loudly, I took Marvin's hand.

"Don't make me regret this." warned Marvin. "If you do, I won't wait for Harry and I _will_ punish you."

I nodded, remembering how fast Marvin could run when the occasion called for it. I suppose he expected me to try and escape, but frankly, I only wanted a chance to go outside. Marvin was far from stupid; he stayed clear of the main road and took me down a path into the forest running behind the house. From the looks of it, the path was usually used by mountain bikes, but there were no fresh tracks in the muds. Again, Marvin was smart enough to take me outside on a weekday to avoid most hikers. His caution paid off, we didn't meet anyone.

It didn't take me long to see Marvin wasn't the outdoor type. He looked nervous and wouldn't take so much as one step outside the path. He did not show much interest in the hares I pointed out to him, and he could not identify any of the birds in the trees. For my part, I was overjoyed by this tiny taste of freedom, even if I had to hold his hand. I would jump in every puddle I saw, making Marvin wince, but he didn't stop me, or held me back. My shoes and pants hem were soon caked with mud.

"We'll have to get you some new shoes for summer; how about some running shoes?" Marvin remarked.

I did not care about my shoes and asked instead:

"Are there any bears around?

– Of course not." quickly answered Marvin, but I saw him take a look around.

I suppressed a smile, knowing full well there weren't any bears in the Chicago area, or even the entire state of Illinois.

"How about wolves? Have you ever seen one?

– No… I'm pretty sure there aren't any.

– Coyotes?

– Maybe…"

For fear of scaring Marvin off and seeing our walk cut short, I decided it was preferable to drop the subject. We kept on walking for a while until we reached a lake. It was a small lake, but a lake all the same. There was still some ice covering its surface, but Marvin wouldn't let me anywhere near the shore. I took my slingshot out and he reluctantly let go of my hand so that I might shoot a few rocks around.

"Do you think there's fish in there?" I asked, aiming at a nearby tree. My rock missed by several feet.

"I don't know. Keep your wrist and forearm aligned." advised Marvin, handing me a new rock.

"Could we try and catch some?"

I aimed again, but still missed.

"It's a little early for fishing. Make sure your target stays between the fork of the slingshot. And don't believe what you see on TV; keep both of your eyes open."

This time, my rock only narrowly missed the trunk.

"Could we come back this summer?" I said, pulling once more on the sling. Marvin corrected my aim by lifting my elbow.

"We'll see…"

I released the sling and was rewarded with the clear sound of my rock hitting the bark of the tree.

"Yes! Direct hit!

– Bet you can't hit it twice in a row." challenged Marvin, crossing his arms.

"And what do I get if I win?

– How about another walk tomorrow?

– You're on!"

With so much at stake this time, I took my time.

"Watch your feet." reminded me Marvin.

I held by breath as I watched my rock fly through the air… only to miss. I was crushed! Until Marvin challenged once more:

"Two out of three?"

This time, I did make that shot, although I am sure Marvin would've taken me back outside no matter how many times I missed.

As fun as the walk had been, the best part of that week came later that evening, and this time, I'm sure not even Marvin had seen it coming.

It all started with a movie.

Harry and Marvin never cared for kids' movies. They refused to rent any out of fear of raising suspicion, but mostly because they had no patience for their simplistic scenarios and poor child acting. As a result, I missed most movies for kids that were released in those years. And since neither Harry nor Marvin ever bothered to check the movie ratings, I ended seeing many movies that were not suitable for my age. I secretly enjoyed this privilege, one of the few perks of living with my captors. It made me feel all grown up.

On that night, when we sat down to watch a movie, Marvin had the genius idea of introducing me to a classic: Alien.

Did I enjoy it? I can now say that I love that movie, but back then, I was too young to appreciate it and was left terrified. That alien was so scary, and perhaps a little too realistic. Not to mention that creepy dark ship where it could lurk and hide around every corner… I guess that when Marvin selected this movie, he forgot he would later have to persuade me to return to a very dark and equally scary storage room in the basement.

My imagination ran wild with visions of that creature locked in the dark with me, and when the time came to go to bed, no matter how many times Marvin would repeat "it's just a movie" I wouldn't budge, and refused to step in the storage room.

"Kid, enough, I'm tired.

– But it's scary in there!

– There's nothing in there. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. And you know it."

Marvin tried once more to push me toward the storage room, but I shrieked, and held on to him.

"Kid… Don't do this.

– Please don't leave me down here! It'll get me, I know!"

Marvin had proven on numerous occasions that he could easily drag me in the storage room whenever he felt like it, but on that night, he didn't. Perhaps he didn't want to ruin what had, until that moment, been a perfect day, or because he recognised he was to blame for my terror. In any case, after much deliberation and tears and begging on my part, Marvin took me back upstairs to one of the unused guest rooms.

I have no idea when was the last time anyone had used that room. There weren't any blinds in the windows or any sheets on the bed, so Marvin had to fetch some first. I was still shaken after the movie, but my joy at escaping my dark cell for the night slowly eclipsed my fears. Holding my toy elephant in my arms, I sat on the bed Marvin had just made, and watched him take a quick look around to make sure all was in order. He removed the window's crank handle, and checked all the drawers that were mostly empty. Unlike the storage room, there was no lock on the door, and I was both curious and anxious to see what he would come up with. Marvin did not disappoint. In this instance, I was left speechless when I saw Marvin improvise a lock on my door using a simple kitchen fork and pliers. His contraption was completed in a matter of minutes.

"That'll do" I heard him mutter. "Okay, kid; I'll be right next door. There are no monsters, so… sleep."

And don't try to escape. I could read between the lines. Neither he nor Harry ever tucked me in; that would've been too weird.

The house was far from the streetlights, but the moon shone through the window. After the pitch-black darkness of the storage room, it felt like a gentle nightlight. Unfortunately, I needed more than that to feel secure. Silently, I got off the bed and tiptoed across the room to turn the lights back on. This simple control over the lights was a satisfying improvement over the storage room. As discreetly as possible, I turned and pulled on the door handle, but Marvin's lock held. I had not really expected it to open, but it was still disappointing.

I went to the window, but with no handle, there was no way for me to open it. It was a straight two-story drop anyway, and with no snow to soften my fall, I wouldn't have risked breaking another bone. Besides, it wasn't as if I could've broken the glass without Marvin hearing.

I then realized it was the first time I had a view from an upper floor window and scanned the horizon. It took me a while, but I did manage to spot a tiny dot of light in the dark. Another house? Help seemed so close, yet so far away. I'm not sure how long I stared at this light in the dark before deciding there was no point. I returned to my bed without bothering to close the lights. It had been such a long time since I had enjoyed the comfort of a real bed. And this wasn't even a single size bed, but an extra-large one, just like my parent's! This had turned out to be a good day.

I have no idea how much sleep Marvin got that night, if any, but I slept like a rock. One of the best nights in a long time. Marvin must've been satisfied with his security measures because he let me sleep in that room in the days that would follow. There would be no mention of the storage room until Harry's return.

The next morning, I woke up to find the bedroom bathing in sunlight, and the door wide open. That had never happened before! I still couldn't sleep in the storage room and would be waiting until morning for Harry and Marvin to unlock the door. Usually Harry, since Marvin preferred to sleep-in. I hardly believed I had slept through the night, it felt so refreshing.

"Morning" said Marvin as he walked past the bedroom. "I see you've survived the night in one piece. Seen any monster around?"

In the morning light, my fears melted away, and I was confident enough to reply in a yawn:

"Monsters aren't real, but aliens might be.

– Right you are. Better be safe than sorry, then."

Marvin was clearly mocking me, but I ignored him and got out of bed. He accompanied me to the kitchen, and gave me a bowl of cereals and warmed up some pop tarts to share. It was late, much later than usual, as Marvin had already had his morning cup of coffee. I remember vaguely wondering why he hadn't started on his cleaning yet, he had been putting off taking care of the kitchen for days now, saving it for last.

"You wanna go outside a little earlier this morning? You could practice your slingshot some more."

No storage room, sleeping-in, and spending the day outside instead of cleaning? That promised to be a great day! Little did I know what Marvin had in store for me, that sneaky backstabber.

I got dressed and brushed my teeth before bouncing back into the kitchen where Marvin was waiting for me.

"How about we give you a haircut before going outside? Get that out of the way before Harry comes back."

With everything that had happened that week, Harry's request had slipped my mind. It had been months since my last haircut, but my opinion on the matter had not changed. I scowled at Marvin for suggesting it.

"You said we'd go outside.

– We are, right after we've taken care of your hair. This won't take long."

Marvin's smile as he said this looked _too_ bright. There was something off with his behaviour that put me on high alert.

"I don't need a haircut." I objected cautiously.

"Come on, kid. Harry is not wrong; your hair is too long. And I know it annoys you, you keep pushing it back. You don't want to end up looking like a girl, do you?"

Marvin knew just how to appeal to the vanity of an eight-year-old boy. I was outraged at his suggestion that someone might mistake me for a girl.

"I don't look like a girl!

– You will if we don't do something about your hair, you can almost tie it in pigtails."

Pigtails! Well that was the last straw! Marvin was exaggerating, but he did manage to get the reaction he was hoping for.

"Maybe just a little haircut." I conceded, running my hand through my hair.

Marvin's smile widened as he pulled out a chair.

"Okay, kid. Let's see what we can do."

I sat down, nervously.

"You're not a hairdresser." I remarked as he took out some thin scissors and clippers from a shopping bag on the kitchen counter.

"Cutting a kid's hair is not very hard. I'll do something simple, don't worry.

– You're not going to cut it too short, are you?"

My scar was much too visible for my taste, and I didn't like looking at it. As if reading my mind, Marvin asked:

"You don't want to lose your bangs?"

I shook my head. He brushed back my hair and watched it fall back into place.

"I could give you a fringe on that side. That way your scar won't show." he said thoughtfully.

Chuckling to himself, Marvin then told me:

"In a few years, I bet you'll be the one asking for a haircut to show it off.

– No I won't. It's ugly." I muttered.

"You won't always think so." Marvin assured me as he wrapped a towel around my neck before casually asking:

"While we're at it, you wanna try something different?

– Different how?

– I know, let's surprise Harry, and try a new colour on you? Doesn't that sound like fun?"

I looked at Marvin, taken aback by his idea. Again, his smile looked false and his tone too light.

"A new colour for what?" I asked slowly.

"For your hair.

– You want to dye my hair?

– Sure! You ever dyed your hair before? They've got all the colours you could imagine, blue, green, pink, purple. We could try something simple first, like brown, and something else next time."

There was no way I would let Marvin or anyone else dye my hair. I was so out of that chair! I ripped the towel off, but just as I leaped out of my chair, Marvin got a hold of my arm, stopping me dead in my tracks.

"Woah, where are you going, kid? We haven't even started yet.

– I don't want to dye my hair!

– What? Why not? It'll be fun, you'll see!"

Something in Marvin's eyes did not match his smile or his words. It made me want to run, but I stayed very still, Marvin looked just about ready to pounce.

"Come on, sit down. I even bought a couple of different shades for you to pick."

So he had been planning this! Far from calming me down, Marvin only highlighted the helplessness of my situation.

"I don't want to! Let go!" I shouted, while trying to escape his hold.

I suspect Marvin might've have anticipated my reaction. In response to my shouts, I saw him narrow his eyes, but although his grip never loosened, he didn't hurt me. He countered my rising panic by keeping his own voice steady.

"Would you just relax, kid. I know what I'm doing. It's just dye; I'm not going to hurt you."

I suppose Marvin was not wrong. Of all the things I have gone through over the years, the hair dye wasn't that bad. I think what really unnerved me was the fact I never had a choice in the matter. And that was the real cause of my panic, the sudden realization that I had little to no say in my life anymore, not even on something as insignificant as the colour of my hair.

"I don't care!"

Seeing how the playful approach wasn't getting him anywhere, Marvin changed his tactic. With one quick jerk, he turned me around so I would look at him as he said:

"Enough, kid! Sid's been calling Harry, trying to get him to change his mind about you. You remember what Sid said? About little boys with blond hair and blue eyes?"

I froze, and looked up at Marvin in fear. I would never forget Sid's words, how could I?

"Well?" insisted Marvin.

"That people would pay…" I did not know how to complete that sentence. I just knew it was bad.

"That's right." nodded Marvin. "Real _bad_ people who like little boys with _blond_ hair."

Marvin let his words sink in before pulling me once more toward the chair. This time, I did not struggle. There was a tremor in my voice as I sat down and asked:

"That's why you wanna dye my hair?

– Yes, it'll help keep Sid away." lied Marvin.

I had no way of knowing that Marvin's true motives had nothing to do with Sid's "business" proposition. He knew the strong impression Harry's brother had left on me, and used it to his advantage, that's all. It proved to be a convenient excuse for Marvin; not only did he get me to cooperate, but he also managed to do so without coming off as the bad guy. When he wanted to, Marvin could be just as clever as Harry.

"Harry's not going to give me to Sid, is he?

– No he won't. Harry doesn't like those bad people. Now sit still and I promise I'll be done in no time, okay?"

My thoughts were in such turmoil after learning that Sid had been calling that when Marvin presented me with a few boxes of dye, asking me which one I wanted, I couldn't bring myself to choose. The only thing I saw was that they were brown. Until that day, I had never realized that such a simple colour could come in so many different shades.

"Would you like the caramel one? Or this nice golden brown?"

In in own clumsy way, I could sense Marvin was trying to cheer me up. For some reason, it only made me feel all the more miserable. Finding myself swallowing back my tears, I pointed to a box at random.

"Chocolate brown, huh? Okay, let's give this a try."

That was the first time Marvin dyed my hair, but it wouldn't be the last. I think I must've tried every shades of brown imaginable. Brown was always the default colour they would select for me. Harry and Marvin would let me return to my natural blond every few months just to give my hair a rest, but that would never last very long.

As I got older, I became more vocal about the colour of my hair dye, to Harry's annoyance and Marvin's amusement. Marvin was always willing to go along with my experiences if that meant avoiding an ugly scene and keeping me happy. Knowing that, I was able to persuade him to dye my hair black with some blue, green or orange streaks a couple of times. Harry would bitch about it for days every time and, I won't lie, that was part of the fun. Those scenes did not prepare me for the tongue-lashing Harry gave Marvin after coming home one evening to find me sporting my new hot pink hair. He was so angry he wanted to shave my hair off. Luckily, Marvin didn't let him, promising Harry he would dye my hair a conventional and very boring shade of brown next time. Dying my hair has become as much a part of my life as disabling security systems and lifting wallets off unsuspecting passerby. I don't think about it or question it anymore.

I sure came a long way since that spring morning when Marvin mixed my very first hair dye. As he worked his way around my head, spreading the dye with a brush, I remember what a strange sensation it was. So cold and sticky, it felt like my hair had been dipped into some kind of slime, not to mention the smell! The powerful chemical scent that accompanied the dye assaulted my senses, and by the time it came to rinse off my hair, I had a throbbing headache. And we weren't even done yet! Marvin still had to cut my hair. I didn't want to think about it too much and sat in silence as locks of hair fell to the floor. Marvin stepped in front of me to shape my bangs and, catching my expression, gave me a reassuring smile.

"No need to frown, kid. It looks nice."

I did not answer him. In my mind, I could not envision how anything nice could come out of this. I nevertheless complied when Marvin asked me to bow down my head so he could shed the back of my neck and sides with the clipper. After blowing dry my head, he proudly held up a mirror so that I could judge his handy work.

"See? Not bad, right? And that colour really brings out your eyes, no?"

I stared at my reflection without a word. As promised, Marvin had kept things simple. Using my natural hair parting, he had given me a side swept haircut with a sharp fringe to the left to cover my scar and some subtle undercuts. It wasn't ugly or anything, but it didn't feel like me anymore. The colour did come as a bit of a shock and didn't help. I had not really paid any attention to the shade of dye I had picked, expecting any brown to come out looking similar to my sister Megan's. My hair was however much darker than hers had ever been, making my eyes stand out like I'd never seen them before. They looked so big, and sad. They were the eyes of a stranger. I don't believe my parents would've recognised me had we crossed on the street. I couldn't bear it anymore and pushed the mirror away. I decided not to think about it right away. I'd think about it later, when I wouldn't be so close to bursting into tears.

"Now can we go outside?"

Marvin studied my lack of reaction with a worried look, but he kept his word and took me back outside for a walk. This time, I didn't argue and took his hand without hesitation as he led me down another path in the woods. I was not in a talking mood and Marvin didn't push it. We walked for a long time; I think Marvin might've underestimated the distance we travelled because by the time we got back, we had long since missed lunch. I was pretty tired, but I did my best to keep up with him. The last thing I wanted was for Marvin to have to carry me.

I was so concentrated on my footstep that when Marvin stopped walking, I bumped right into him. We were still under the cover of the trees, but the house was into view. Wondering what was wrong, I looked up at Marvin and was scared by the clear anger displayed on his features. I followed his gaze and saw that the kitchen door was open and that someone was sitting on the back porch, smocking. My heart got caught in my throat. Even from the distance, I recognized Harry's horrible brother Sid. I gripped Marvin's hand hard, remembering our morning conversation. To be honest, I also suddenly did not mind my new hair colour so much. Marvin might've taken advantage of my fear, but he hadn't been lying when he said Sid had been calling Harry about me. Since Harry could not be persuaded over the phone, it would appear that Sid had decided to pay us another visit.

"Marv?" I whispered.

I'm not sure he heard me as he kept his eyes on the intruder. Cursing softly, he said under his breath:

"Harry's going to kill him…"

Marvin then motioned for me to follow him.

"Come on, let's walk some more. Sid won't stay long."

I was hungry, tired, and getting cold, but anything was preferable to another encounter with Sid. We found a rock not too far down and sat there in silence. Waiting. Thinking. I took my pocket watch and followed the needles as round and round they circled the clock. I wish I could've forgotten about Sid, but I couldn't rid my mind of the menace he represented. A menace I did not fully understand yet feared.

"Marv, do people really buy kids?

– Don't think about that." answered Marvin, probably hoping to avoid having this discussion with me.

"You said… You told me that of someone is selling, there was always someone buying. Kids too?"

Marvin looked startled by my question. He probably never expected me to throw his own words back in his face, especially not in this context. It took him a while to answer and when he did, he looked uncomfortable.

"Some people do."

 _Bad_ people, Marvin had called them earlier that day. I thought about this for a few minutes. I could see why someone would buy a stolen television or even jewelry, but kids… Maybe I shouldn't have asked, but I couldn't help myself. It was after all what Sid had in mind for me.

"What do they do with them?"

Marvin avoided my eyes as he answered awkwardly.

"They… They're just people who really like kids. They can't have any of their own, so if they have money… they can fix that."

I stared at Marvin but he still wouldn't look at me. Sid's proposition wouldn't have disgusted him so much if that was all there was to it. Besides if people truly wanted children, they could adopt. One girl in my class had been adopted. She came from South Korea and her parents had adopted her when she was just a baby.

"You're lying." I said quietly.

It wasn't an accusation, just a statement. Marvin didn't try to deny it. Looking at the police car in the driveway, he replied darkly:

"Yeah well, you're too young to know about some stuff.

– Do you mean they kill them?"

It is amusing to think that, back then, I truly believed that getting killed was the worst thing that could befall someone. I had a lot to learn. As much as Marvin liked to instruct me on a variety of topics, the trafficking of children was not a subject he was ready to breach with me.

"No. That's not what they want.

– Then what-

– No, kid. One day, you'll understand, but not today. Believe me, you don't want to know."

I'm not sure when I finally understood what those "bad people" were after. For all of my parents' warnings and talk about stranger danger, it's not like they ever went into details. Looking back on that Alien movie we had watched the previous evening, I then realized how wrong I had been.

Monsters were very real.

And they didn't make movies about the scariest of them all.


	12. Chapter 11

_Hello everyone!_

 _Dear Guest, I am glad to see you like my story. I would like to assure you that not a day goes by without me working on this story. I promise to always update my story as quickly as possible._

 _Here is my latest chapter! I know it is not as long as the other ones. It was supposed to be a part of Chapter 10, before I decided it would fit better in the next chapter. It was then supposed to be a part of what will now be Chapter 12 (yes, this means that Chapter 12 is well underway, I have written about 2/3 of what I had planned. Patience, dear readers, it is coming along.), but somehow, this segment would not be incorporated into the next Chapter. It simply stands on its own, so here it is!_

Chapter 11

Sid's visit ruined the holiday feeling Marvin had been fostering in Harry's absence. When we eventually returned to the house, after watching Sid drive away, Marvin had found a note Harry's brother had left for him in the kitchen. He never told me what that note said, but it left Marvin incensed.

Turns out Harry had given Sid a key to the house a long time ago. He had never used it, until I came along. That night, Marvin didn't mince his words when Harry called. I think he was kicking himself as much as Harry for forgetting that Sid had an all access key to the house. I was just glad Marvin had not been out on an errand or on a job when Sid had decided to show up. The very next morning, Marvin changed the locks on all the doors. What's more, he took to carrying his handgun, even while we were inside the house. I also saw him set up various trip wires and traps around the doors and windows before retiring for the night. Had I known what irony was back then, I might've found this amusing.

I think Marvin and I both breathed a sigh of relief when Harry returned two days later with an empty van, but his pockets full of cash. My pleasure at seeing him soon faded away as he circled me, examining my new look.

"Not bad, Marv, not bad at all." approved Harry. "The colour's darker that I expected, but believable."

– I know but it should lighten up after a few wash." commented Marvin.

I furrowed my brow in anger. "Surprise Harry" had said Marvin, that liar! They had planned this all along! I wouldn't be surprised if Harry had been the one to suggest the hair dye in the first place. This wouldn't be the last time they would trick me like this.

It's only recently that I came to realize how much Harry relied on Marvin when it came to dealing with me. From early on, he saw that Marvin knew how to make me trust him, and he made sure to encourage him to do so. It made things easier. Marvin could make me swallow bitter pills, like the hair dye, I would've fought much harder had they come from Harry.

"Good work Marv. We still got to go over a few details, but we're right on schedule."

My anger was replaced by a feeling of foreboding. On schedule for what? What were they planning this time? It was no use asking, they didn't answer me. But this new mystery would have to wait. Harry was back, and he didn't waste a second to remind me who was in charge around here.

"Who's been using the guest bedroom?" he asked Marvin, no sooner had he unpacked.

The card castle I had been working on fell apart. Given that my toy elephant was most likely still on the unmade bed where I had left it that morning, I think Harry had already guessed the answer to his question.

"Oh, yeah, the kid's been sleeping in there for a couple of days now.

– You've been letting him sleep upstairs?" asked Harry, raising an eyebrow.

I held my breath. I had got comfortable in the upstairs bedroom, and I didn't want to return to the basement. Marvin shrugged.

"Sure. Why not, he behaved. And with Sid sniffing around, I thought it would be best to keep him close."

I cocked my head to the side, looking at Marvin. No mention of the Alien movie, then? Interesting. I gathered my cards, smiling internally; I liked the idea of keeping secrets from Harry.

"You didn't tell me you were letting him sleep upstairs.

– So what? I have to clear everything with you, now?" snapped Marvin.

"No, no, that was good, Marv. That was a great idea, actually. Good thinking."

I shouldn't have been surprised to hear Harry praise Marvin's initiative.

I should've worried.

I hadn't known Harry long enough to know how he could forge any act of kindness, the smallest gesture or word, into a weapon. Whenever he saw an opportunity, he didn't hesitate, and went for it.

"There's no lock on that door. What'd you used? A chair?" he inquired with curiosity.

"A chair? Not very reliable Harry. I used the old college trick with the kitchen fork.

Harry smiled appreciatively.

"I'd forgotten about that.

– I had to get creative. Couldn't really install a lock on that door, since… you know."

Since what? Again, I perked up, waiting for Harry or Marvin to drop some kind of clue for me to work with, but they quickly changed the subject. I tried to reassure myself as best as I could; I might have no idea what they were up to, but my bedroom situation had at least been settled.

Or so I thought.

That evening, Harry watched Marvin, arms crossed, set up his trip wires around the house.

"That's real cute Marv. Why don't you ask the kid to give you a hand with that while you're at it?"

I could feel Harry's eyes on me as he said this and I was careful not to make eye contact. I did not want him to guess I had thought of a few improvements to Marvin's amateur security system. I doubted those would've been welcomed.

"Do you mind _not_ mentioning that, Harry?

– You're overreacting.

– I am not!

–Sid's no burglar, you know that. Never was. He couldn't break-in anywhere without raising hell.

– Don't care. We could use the extra security. It won't be for long anyway.

– Whatever. Come on kid, time for bed, you know the drill."

My earlier hopes were dashed when I saw Harry motion to the basement. Maybe he'd forgotten or something… Yeah right, Harry didn't forget much where I was concerned.

"Why can't I sleep upstairs?"

Why? Because just as Marvin had used my fear of Sid to dye my hair, Harry knew how to play on my fear of the storage room to get what _he_ wanted.

"Play time is over, kid. Downstairs.

– Do I have to?" I whined, hoping Marvin would speak up for me.

And he did. In a way. Without taking his eyes off the knot he was working on, Marvin addressed Harry:

"The bedroom is secure, and he didn't give me any trouble."

Harry scoffed at Marvin's suggestion.

"You are such a push over. I leave for a week, and the kid's got you wrapped around his finger!"

I could sense which way the wind was blowing, and tried to appease Harry.

"Can I sleep upstairs? I'll be quiet, I promise."

Harry's smile of contentment when I said this was lost on me.

"Oh, that's right; you don't like the storage room, do you?"

– No…"

– Okay, how about a deal, then?" he offered sweetly "We won't lock you in the storage room, ever again."

I instantly lit up, amazed by his change of heart. Even Marvin was surprised by Harry's gracious offer, and looked on in curiosity.

"You won't?" I asked, hardly believing my ears.

"We won't. You can sleep upstairs from now on, _if_ you can answer one question: What's your name?"

I looked up to Harry in confusion. That request sounded too simple to be true, and of course it was.

"You know my name is Kevin.

– Kevin …?

– Kevin McCallister."

I was puzzled to see Harry shake his head.

"Wrong answer, try again. What's your name?

– Kevin Carson McCallister?"

Again, Harry shook his head, still smiling with a level of patience I did not know he possessed.

"But that's my name." I weakly protested, crestfallen.

"That's not your name _anymore_. What's your name?"

It took me a few seconds to understand where Harry was going with this new game of his, but when I did, I could only stare at him in disbelief. He didn't actually expect me to say those lies, did he?

"My name is Kevin… McCallister." I repeated with some hesitation, hoping I was misinterpreting Harry's intentions.

"We went over this not too long ago, kid. I know you remember the new name we got you. Now what's your name?"

You could've heard a pin drop. Both Harry and Marvin were looking at me, waiting for my reply. My mind was racing, trying to figure a way out of this. I knew what Harry wanted to hear, and I wouldn't say it.

"Do you prefer to sleep in the storage room?" prompted Harry.

"No.

– Then what's your name?"

I didn't know what to say. I did not want to be confined to the storage room, but how could Harry ask me to say _that_? I might've only been eight-years-old, but I could sense that no matter what I said, I'd lose. It wasn't fair.

"Come on, kid." gently pressed Marvin. "It's not hard."

He should've kept his mouth shut. His support of Harry in this cruel game stung. If anything, Marvin convinced me of my answer. I lifted my head and shot both of them a murderous look as I declared:

"My name is Kevin _McCallister_."

Marvin shook his head, like he was really disappointed in me, but Harry showed no surprise or anger.

"Looks like you need another night in the storage room to think it over. We'll try again tomorrow."

And so began my earliest training at Harry's hand. It had nothing to do with me joining their dynamic duo, but everything to do with making sure Kevin McCallister disappeared for good. I have to hand it to him, that evil bastard knew how to make me dance to his tune. Returning to the darkness of the storage room after nearly a week spent in a real room made my time in there twice as suffocating. I did not give Harry the satisfaction of begging, but wept bitterly that night.

I thought I could take it, I really did. I would stand the storage room as long as it took, but I vowed I would never let that lie cross my lips as long as I lived.

I underestimated Harry.

He played dirty.

When morning came, after my usual sleepless night in the storage room, Harry wouldn't let me sleep on the couch like he used to. Instead, he kept me busy all day, making me wash the dishes, help him prepare dinner, fold the laundry and even wash windows, something I'd never done before. I don't think he cared about the windows much; he simply wouldn't let me rest. He also insisted Marvin took me back outside, but I was so tired it felt more like a punishment than a treat.

"You want to sleep, sleep at night." was his response when I dared complain.

But I couldn't sleep at night. Not in the storage room. I would sometimes pass out, but there was no restful sleep for me. Harry had counted on that. Every day he would ask me what my name was, and my answer would not change. This went on for a few days. I'd like to say five or six, but by the end, I got too confused to keep track. I remember barely being able to walk straight, my eyes burning, and the slightest sound making me flinch. I lost my appetite. I couldn't think very clearly, and would dissolve into tears for no apparent reason several times a day.

I turned to Marvin, begging him to let me rest during our daily walk, but he took a page out of Harry's book and would respond by making the same demand.

"Just say it kid. It's not complicated."

When I shouted my name, my real name, back in his face, Marvin made me walk three more times around the lake, dragging me behind him, if necessary. I don't think he had much stomach for my tears and what Harry was putting me through. After that particular episode, he started taking off for hours at the time, the coward, leaving me alone with Harry.

"Please… I'm tired." I pleaded.

But Harry would not be moved. When he set his mind on something, he wouldn't back down.

"Tell me your name, and you can take a nice nap upstairs.

– Kevin McCallister."

As time went by, I spoke my true name out of confusion rather than stubbornness.

"No kid." would correct me Harry. "Your name is Kevin _Merchants_. Say it, and you can go upstairs rest on a nice comfy bed. Don't you want to have a good night sleep?"

Oh I wanted to, I so wanted to rest my head and eyes, but the words would not come. So Harry made me vacuum the house, drag carpets outside, wash the floors, build cardboard boxes and move furniture around.

I was just a kid. There was no way I could keep this up forever. Harry knew it, so he played the waiting game. He had no reason to get mad at me when his victory was guaranteed.

When I did give in, as I inevitably did, Harry didn't even have to ask me for my name. I was so tired, and there he was, droning on about my chores for the day. It was too much. I couldn't take it anymore and blurt out the word:

"Merchants.

– What was that?

I couldn't look at Harry and chewed on my lips a bit before repeating:

"Kevin… Merchants."

My lower lips trembled, and I began to sob.

"Can I go sleep now?

– One more time, kid. From the top."

By then, I was crying so hard, I'm not sure how I managed to say anything at all. I just wanted this over and done with, so I did what Harry asked, choking on the words.

"My name is Kevin Merchants."

Harry patted my head.

"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Had I had any energy left, I would've spat in his face. Hanging my head in shame, I followed Harry as he took me to the upstairs bedroom where I promptly passed out on the bed. Harry was as good as his words; he didn't lock me in the storage room anymore, and eased up on the chores.

As long as I told him what he wanted to hear.

I had hoped never to have to repeat that lie. That once would've satisfied Harry. It didn't. I was disheartened the very next morning when he repeated his request over breakfast. How I hated Harry's smug expression as he showed off my obedience to Marvin. How I hated Marvin's smile of pride, and how he playfully ruffled my hair when I complied. But most of all, I hated myself.

I thought Harry was just toying with me. That his cruelty, was nothing more than a way for him to past the time, and hoped his interest would wane. This was no game, however. This was a lesson. A lesson Harry was determined to drill into me. Every day for I don't remember how long, he would make me repeat that name.

Until there was no hesitation left in my voice as I said the words.

Until I stopped glaring at him every time he would ask.

Until I almost believed those words.

This didn't happen overnight or even over the course of a few weeks, but I wasn't going anywhere, and Harry had all the time in the world.


	13. Chapter 12

_This chapter is finally done! I hope you'll find it was worth the wait. Again, so much longer than I anticipated it would be!_

Chapter 12

Harry and Marvin had been quite the busy bees since his return from New York. Thanks to Harry, I had been far too tired to notice anything was amiss, but after I'd been given the time to rest, I woke up to a new reality. It suddenly all made sense; the cleaning craze, the liquidation of their inventory, the boxes…

They were packing.

This was no overnight bag; this was emptying the house packing! With this realization came a fresh wave of panic. Where would they take me? I didn't want to leave! How could I find my way home if they took me god only knew where?

"We're leaving?

– Who said anything about leaving?" brushed me off Marvin. "Here, take these boxes and go build yourself a boat, or a fort, or something."

He then went back to shredding some documents, but I refused to be distracted so easily.

"Where are we going?

– Stop worrying so much, kid."

Stop worrying? Was he kidding me? How could I help worrying? They had almost cleaned out the house, taking some stuff into storage and packing whatever they could carry with them. We were leaving, and from the looks of it, sooner rather than later.

The more Marvin insisted on denying the evidence, the more worked up I got. Since he wouldn't tell me anything, I was left with no choice but to turn to Harry for answers. True to form, extracting any information out of him was like pulling teeth.

"Don't bother me, kid.

– We're leaving, I know it! Why won't you tell me where?

– Cause you're a kid. You don't need to know. You just follow."

That has to be one of the most infuriating answers I ever got. Doing my best to keep the venom out of my voice, I tried once again.

"When are we leaving?

– Wouldn't you like to know." mocked Harry.

I had to walk away before I lost it and screamed. In light of this new turn of events, there was only one thing left to do: escape. The memory of the gun pressed against my forehead was not forgotten, hell it'll probably be burned into my mind for as long as I live, but I had to run. It was my only chance, before they uprooted me to some distant corner of the country. I didn't have much time, or even the vaguest of plan. What I had was an objective. That tiny dot of light I had spotted on my first night in the upstairs bedroom became my anchor. My only hope. If I could get to that house, I'd be saved.

During my last escape attempt, I had been running blind. This time would be different; I knew where to run to. All I had to do was to give my captors the slip. Easier said than done. Either Harry and Marvin sensed my desperation, or our imminent departure was making them just as nervous as I was, but they were as watchful as ever. Marvin even went as far as to confiscate my slingshot, which was totally uncalled for!

Then, one evening, as Marvin led me to my bedroom for the night, I came to a stop in front of the office. They had always kept that room under lock and key, but on that night, the door stood ajar. I discovered a bare room with a wooden chair, an old desk and an empty filling cabinet. Two neatly packed boxed were lined against the wall. That, more than anything, convinced me that this would be our last night in this house.

"Off to bed, kid." Marvin pushed me onward.

When I entered my bedroom, I knew I had guessed correctly when I saw that they had disassembled the bed, leaving the mattress flat on the floor.

"Why are we leaving?" I asked as calmly as possible.

This time, Marvin did not deny it.

"Cause it's for the best."

I hated his vague answers. That was just laziness on his part; even I could come up with better excuses!

"Are we leaving because of Sid?

– Well, he _is_ too close for comfort. Harry and me, we can't stay with you all the time. So we're going somewhere he won't be able to get to you."

Harry and Marvin wouldn't need to stay with me, or move if they'd just let me go home. I kept these thoughts to myself. I no longer talked about home, but that did not keep me from missing it. Home became more than a house, or a location; it was a world in itself. A world where I was safe, where I was loved, and where men like Sid, and the bad people who bought children, did not belong.

"I don't want to leave.

– You say that now, but wait till you see our new place. You'll like it."

I seriously doubted that. Marvin didn't understand, or perhaps he just pretended not to see I did not mean the house. I meant Chicago. It was the only place I'd ever known, and I'd already lost so much.

"Please don't take me away."

As much as I tried to keep my emotions in check, the latest events were taking their toll on me, and my voiced cracked.

"Hey, hey, don't cry."

Harry never cared for my tears, and would usually ignore me, while Marvin simply didn't know how to respond, except by telling me not to cry. He never seemed to catch on that telling me to stop crying was not helpful.

"Us leaving, it'll be good, you'll see."

I'm not sure how much Marvin believed his own bullshit. He must've known how hard moving would be for me, yet his words sounded so sincere. Like moving would magically fix everything. I felt tears roll down my cheeks, and I wiped them away with impatience. They never listened when I cried. Marvin tried as best as he could to put a positive spin on the whole thing.

"You know what? Our new house, no storage room!"

What did Marvin expect, I wonder? Did he think I would clap my hands, or leap with joy at this news? If getting away from the storage room was the only thing I had to look forward to, what did that say about my life? In anger, I pushed him away. Since this was Marvin, he barely moved, and I'm the one who ended up stepping back.

"This is all your fault! Why'd you have to take me!"

Marvin did not hide his annoyance at my accusation.

"Kid, we can't keep having this discussion. You're staying with us, and we're leaving. Shouting isn't going to change that.

– I don't want to go anywhere with you!"

I sat on the bed, or what was left of it, my back turned to Marvin. I expected him to leave, that's what he usually did whenever I was upset, but for once, when I wished to be left alone, Marvin sat next to me.

"Kevin, see this right here, right now, that's why we gotta leave."

I wanted nothing more than to ignore him, but against my better judgement, I found myself listening.

"You, me and Harry, we're going to make a fresh start somewhere far away where no one will know us.

Now he had my attention. My undivided and fearful attention. Marvin picked one hell of a moment to start being honest. As well intentioned as he was, Marvin could sometimes make things worse by failing to know when to shut up. The image he painted sounded terrifying. Somewhere far away? How far? The more he spoke, the more I wanted to run. Catching my expression, Marvin must've realized his mistake.

"Hey, it's okay, kid."

He reached out for me, but I recoiled from him. Seeing my fear, Marvin stopped where he was, holding his hand in front of him in a non-threatening way.

"No need to get scared. We won't hurt you.

– You want to take me somewhere far away!

– Yes." plainly admitted Marvin. "That's the idea. It's like Harry said: we're family now and what we need, is a place to start over. Just the three of us.

– Why? Why do we need to start over?"

Marvin answered with a tentative smile I did not return.

"So we can learn to be a family.

– I already have a family.

– A family that abandoned you, kid. Don't _ever_ forget that." harshly replied Marvin.

I never should've mentioned my family in front of him. Marvin took every opportunity to remind me how my family had disappeared on me, which only ended up hurting me. I looked at him in silent reproach, and his voice somewhat soften.

"Harry and me, we're new to this too. That's why moving is what's best for the three of us, all right?"

All right? No it was not all right. There was nothing right about what Marvin had just said. I made myself nod, just so he'd go away.

"Good. Now, what's your name?"

I was not used to Marvin making this request, and did not answer right away. Marvin's expression did not change, but his hand closed around mine.

"Kevin…" I was about to say McCallister out of spite, but thought better of it. "Kevin Merchants."

If this was to be my last night in this house, I had no intention of spending it in the storage room. Marvin's hand relaxed and he let go, smiling.

"That's my boy."

Marvin's words caught me off guard. I blinked a couple of times, not daring to believe what I had just heard. Harry chose that moment to stop by, saving me from saying something they would've both made me regret.

"Everything all right in here?" he asked, looking from Marvin to me.

I'm sure Harry must've noticed how pale I was. Without realising it, I reached for my toy elephant, and held it close.

"Sure. No problem, Harry. The kid's just nervous over us moving. We had a talk and it's all good.

– Uh hum."

From his tone, I could tell Harry knew that things were not, as Marvin claimed, "all good".

"If you're done, we need to go over a couple of things for tomorrow.

– Be right there."

Harry walked away, to take the boxes in the office downstairs from the sound of it. Marvin did not leave, asking me quietly:

"Are we good, kid?"

Still playing with the toy, I muttered under my breath:

"I'm not your boy."

Marvin chose to ignore my statement, and got up.

"Try to sleep. We got a long trip ahead of us tomorrow."

I could not help myself, I grabbed his hand and hung on to it as he was about to leave.

"Where are we going? Why won't you tell me, please!" I should've left it at that, but the next words just slipped. "Will I see my mom and dad again?"

This time, Marvin frowned down on me in anger.

"No. No you won't." he said, shaking his hand free.

In my heart, I had already guessed what his answer would be. I thought I could handle the truth, no matter how awful, but his words proved too much, and I broke into tears. Marvin shifted uneasily:

"Harry and me, we're not such bad guys."

Who the hell was he trying to convince? He always did that, always had to plead innocent, even when caught up in the most heinous act. It's only gotten worse over the years; listening to Marvin, one might think he _saved_ me from my family or something. The only explanation I could think of for his behaviour is that this was his way of coping with what they've done to me. Harry on the other hand never pretended to be my friend. He did what he did out of self-preservation, and never tried to sugarcoat it. I sort of have to respect that.

If Marvin had hoped to calm me, he chose his next words very poorly:

"When we leave tomorrow, we're family.

– No you're not!" I cried without looking at him.

"Just... forget about them, kid. Believe me, the sooner the better."

Marvin didn't waste his breath telling me to stop crying, and walked straight out, closing the lights as he went. I stayed where I was, sobbing in the dark, clutching a stupid plush toy I should've hated, but couldn't let go of.

Sometimes I wonder what would've happened had I just listened to Marvin, tried to make the most of my new situation, and forgot about my family. Maybe things would not have turned so ugly, but it wasn't in me.

I did not get much sleep that night. I paced my room, kept going back to the window, checking and re-checking the position of the distant house. I tried to sleep, only to end up tossing and turning in vain.

When Harry sent me off to my usual morning shower, I felt sluggish, and was not in the best of spirits to plan an escape. My eyes were red and swollen, but Harry didn't comment on them. I heard him calling for Marvin to get up, and was therefore surprised to find Harry, and not Marvin, waiting for me when I exited the bathroom. He had a travel bag in hand, and took me back to my room. This was not a part of our daily routine.

"We're not going downstairs?" I asked shyly.

"Later. Marv is taking care of breakfast."

For some reason, I got the vague impression that Harry disapproved. I quickly put the idea on account of him not being in the mood for eggs. Entering my bedroom, Harry pointed to the dresser.

"Pack your stuff and undo the bed while I go shower. Don't fold the sheets; we'll throw them in the wash. Marv should be about done with breakfast by then. Got that?"

Pack my stuff? Regardless of my personal feelings on the whole moving issue, I knew better than to cross Harry first thing in the morning, only…

"I don't know how to pack." I mumbled without looking at him.

"What?

– I don't know how to pack.

– What do you mean you not know how to pack? Weren't you always travelling to some fancy destination like Paris?"

Harry's patronizing tone was so reminiscent of my siblings' I found myself cringing.

"My mom would…

– You mean to tell me you can booby trap an entire house, but you can't pack?"

I did not see how those two abilities were connected, but held my tongue. Harry, more than Marvin, never got over the Christmas Eve incident. Maybe it was the scar. Marvin had got beaten up, yes, and I know the sole of his foot still bore the mark of the nail he had stepped on, but it was nothing next to Harry's hand. Unlike Marvin, Harry had to look at that scar day after day. He usually wore a glove to cover it up whenever he left the house, but still. Thankfully, his hair had grown back or I don't think I ever would've heard the end of that one.

In light of my ignorance, Harry did the last thing I expected; he took some clothes out of the dresser, and showed me how to pack my bag. He taught me how to roll my clothes to maximize space, and instructed me to work around a central core; underwear and t-shirts in the middle, with pants and sweatshirts as the outer layers.

As weird as it might sound, this simple task filled me with a great sense of accomplishment. I now knew how to pack a bag! It wasn't as complicated or daunting as I thought it would be. Who was completely helpless now! My newfound pride vanished as soon as I remembered when and who had spoken these words. I did not want to be angry at my siblings, not when I was about to disappear, and yet… It had only taken Harry a few minutes to show me all I needed to know. _Harry_ , who was by no mean a patient man, and who didn't like me much, had taken the time to show me. Why couldn't my siblings do the same?

I was being unfair. I can see now that my siblings, although older than me, were still children. Harry was a grown man. I shouldn't have compared their reactions. Siblings were supposed to make life miserable for one another, while Harry… I never really got Harry. Over the years, I have noted how he never begrudged me for not knowing how to do something. Funny how he never liked answering my questions, but he did not mind _showing_ me how to do stuff. He taught me how to mince garlic, mix spices and grind meat to make real Italian dishes. He also taught me how to unclog drains, change breaker fuses, and install ceramic and hardwood floor. And that's without mentioning all the less savory knowledge he passed down to me.

As much as I hate to think about it, I have to admit Harry is much more resourceful than my father and uncles put together. Unlike most folks in my family, he never went to university, but there wasn't much he couldn't fix by himself.

When Harry returned after his shower, he double-checked the dresser to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything. My toy elephant did not fit in the bag, but Harry told me not to worry about it. We went downstairs where Marvin was hard at work.

Upon entering the kitchen, both Harry and I stopped short. My eyes circled the room, noting how the boxes they had piled on the floor now laid open. The kitchen counter was cluttered with mixing bowl of various sizes, dirty dishes, melted butter, icing sugar, and milk. A faint, but distinctive smell of burned food also hung in the air. In a word, the kitchen was a mess. Cooking eggs did not usually require this much work.

"Damn it, Marv, we just finished packing last night!

– It's not as bad as it looks. We'll clean up in no time."

Still surveying the mess in progress from a safe distance, I tried to understand what had happened.

"What kind of eggs did you make?

– Uh? Oh, I made pancakes."

Pancakes? That was way more elaborate than his usual eggs. Harry shared my doubt on Marvin's abilities to pull it off. He was just more outspoken about it.

"God, it reeks, how many did ya burn?"

"Just the first two. I think I'm getting the hang of it." replied Marvin, ever the optimist.

I was not sure any of the so-called pancakes would be edible, but I sat at the table. Outside, the van and car were parked side by side. Harry had sent Marvin rent a cargo trailer that was now hitched to the car. Ever cautious, Harry had parked them far off the road so that their packing would go unnoticed. I got nervous again, thinking about what laid ahead.

I was however soon distracted by the smell that filled the kitchen. It smelled of sugar, chocolate and cinnamon. I knew that smell. It was that of my dad's chocolate cinnamon roll pancakes. The ones he would make on Sunday mornings. I sometimes got, and still get, flashback memories when I least expect them. A word, an expression, or a scent is all it takes to trigger my memory. I've identified most of these triggers over the years, and have got them under control, but once in a while, one will slip by, hitting me bad. I hate having those sprung on me without warning.

On that morning, I was overcome with the souvenir of my family having breakfast together. I would have make-belief sword fights with Jeff, using our forks. Linnie would insist on retelling her dreams, while Buzz and Megan would argue over the comic strips in the paper. My mom drank her coffee and discussed the news or the latest renovations with my dad as he cooked. It was such a mundane memory, but a happy one.

By the time Marvin placed a plate of pancakes in front of me, I was so choked up I couldn't eat a bite. The cinnamon swirl looked more like a zigzag, but besides that, they could've been my dad's pancakes. They even had small melted chocolate chips into them.

"What's wrong, kid? They're not bad for a first try. Eat while it's still warm."

I couldn't touch my plate. Looking up at Marvin, I saw him watching me. Harry had his head buried in the morning paper, but his eyes weren't moving. A _first_ try, huh? What were the odds of Marvin randomly trying a recipe that happened to be my father's?

"What are you doing?

– I made breakfast. Give them a try, they're pretty good!"

I stared at him as he took a few bites from his own plate.

"Why did you make pancakes?"

What I truly wanted to ask was why he had made _these_ pancakes, but I was almost afraid of the answer.

"Cause you're a kid. Kids love pancakes. And chocolate. And sugar." explained Marvin.

I could tell he wasn't being entirely honest with me. When I didn't move, Marvin added with a nervous laugh:

"Well go on, try them."

Looking at Marvin square in the eyes, I pushed my plate away.

"I'm not hungry.

– Kid, you know the rule." intervened Harry. "You eat what we put in front of you, or you don't eat at all.

– I'm _not_ hungry." I repeated, trying to control my anger.

To my relief, Harry did not force me eat those pancakes. I think even he could recognise a lost battle when he saw one. Instead, he sent me to get started on laundry. I was just glad to have an excuse, any excuse, to leave the table. As I walked away, I overheard Marvin ask Harry:

"Too soon?

– Ya think? Told ya, you idiot."

Turns out, Harry was not the only one who had picked up some information about my family during their weeklong contract in my house. It would be months before Marvin tried this recipe again and years before I accepted to eat any.

I think my refusal to eat the pancakes hurt Marvin's feelings. I didn't care. I was still angry at him for trying to trick me like this. I'm not sure what he was trying to accomplish, but I could sense that I was being manipulated. I didn't buy into the whole "we are family" crap, and his intrusion into my souvenirs was not welcomed.

Under the pretext of keeping me out of trouble, they locked me up again, in the office of all places, while they packed the vehicles. The room was empty, save for the desk and chair they would leave behind. They had already removed the filing cabinet, along with the boxes. Out of boredom, I inspected the content of the desk, but found it was empty, save for some broken pieces of pencil and some twisted paper clips. Ah, to think of all the ways I could've put these paper clips to use, if only I'd known then what I know now. But I only saw them for what they were, useless and forgotten pieces of office supplies.

At that moment, I thought I had reached rock bottom. I could not see how I could keep them from taking me half way across the world if they felt like it. I was sitting there, lost in my dark reflections, when my eyes were drawn to some marks on the desk. I took a closer look, not because I was interested, but because I welcomed anything that would get my mind off our imminent departure, and saw that someone had sketched various drawings all over the wooden surface of the desk. There were simple lines, circles and even misshapen stars, but what really caught my attention were the initials H. L. practically carved into the desk.

I now know Harry doodles whenever he's on the phone for more than a few minutes. Helps him concentrate, I think. I'm not sure he's even aware of doing anything as he draws or scribbles on whatever he can find. This habit of his did give me an idea. I might not be able to run, but that did not mean I could not mark my passage in this house.

I grabbed a broken piece of pencil, hoping the exposed lead would not break. Now, where to write my message? I considered the desk, before deciding against it. The desk was too exposed. I also could not risk anyone throwing it away without seeing my note. My eyes quickly scanned the room. The wall? Again, I did not want Harry or Marvin to notice anything. This was just lead after all; they could easily erase whatever I wrote if they found it. That's when I saw the closet. I jumped out of my chair, and opened its folding doors. The back wall? Nah, too visible. After an internal debate, I settled for the bottom of a side wall. This way, my message would be invisible unless someone stepped inside the closet. Hoping that my message would not be hidden _too well_ , I set to work. When I was done, my heart was beating fast. My message read:

 _Kevin McCallister_

 _June 1991_

 _My parents are Kate and Peter McCallister._

 _Please let them know I'm alive._

I added my phone number for good measure. I had no idea when, or if, anyone would ever find this message, but at least I had done _something_.

I closed the closet doors and returned the piece of pencil in the desk, just in case. I then went back to pacing the floor. I could hear Harry and Marvin walking up and down the stairs, carrying stuff. Every time they would come near the office, I would hold my breath, thinking they've come for me, but the hours slowly went by without either Harry or Marvin coming to get me. I tried to think about something else, anything, but it was near impossible with nothing to distract me. To tell the truth, I was also getting hungry, not that I would've dared call to Harry or Marvin; I didn't want to risk there being any pancake left over. It wasn't like them to skip a meal, but still, they didn't come.

It was late in the afternoon when Marvin unlocked the office door and stepped into the room. By then, I had given up on trying to find a comfortable position in the wooden chair, and was sitting cross-legged on the floor, as far away as possible from the closet. I was both comforted to see Marvin did not even look in that direction, and nervous over what his presence signaled.

"Get up, kid. Come here.

– Are we leaving?

– No, not yet. Come here." he said, walking over to the desk.

"Why?

– Cause I said so, now move!"

I did not care for Marvin's tone, but decided not to wait for him to come and get me off the floor.

"Sit, kid."

Marvin was pointing at the desk

"On the desk?

– Yeah, on the desk."

I nervously complied, wondering what this was about. I then saw Marvin take something out of his pocket. It looked like a marker. I watched in curiosity as he twisted the thing open.

"Look at me, and hold still."

I did not look at Marvin but at the marker he was holding. Upon closer inspection, I realized that it wasn't a marker, but a kind of small brush. Marvin got a hold of my chin and lifted my face to the light.

"What are–?

– Don't move. I'll be done in a minute." said Marvin, without letting go.

He took what I now saw was not a marker at all to my face. I had two sisters, a mother and countless cousins; I knew mascara when I saw it! I pushed his hand away.

"What are you doing!

– Damn it, kid! I told you not to move! You want me to poke you in the eye or something?

– You want me to wear makeup! That's for girls!"

Marvin's smile as he answered looked strained.

"Your eyebrow and eyelashes don't exactly match your new hair colour. This'll fix that, so don't move."

He tried once again to take the mascara brush to my face, but I wouldn't hear of it.

"What? I don't care! I'm not wearing that!"

It's a little sad how I forgot, over and over, that I did not own myself anymore. I knew Marvin was not very pleased with me that day, still I did not expect him to grab me by the throat when I pushed his hand away for the third time. He didn't squeeze hard enough to choke off my air completely, but I gasped in alarm, and tried to pry his fingers off me.

"You really need to learn to obey, kid. Now hold still!"

Marvin would regret scaring me like that. He was so focused on his task, he completely overlooked the possibility that I might retaliate. As it so often happened in these situations, I did not think, I did not plan, I reacted, and kicked him as hard as I could. Luck was on my side, I hit Marvin right in the groin. That sure made him let go! With a strangle cry, Marvin went down, doubled over, as I scrambled off the desk, and ran for it.

Behind me, Marvin cursed as he tried to work through the pain, and give chase, but I was quicker. I flew down the stairs and threw the front door open. Now I can't really explain it, but in a fraction of second, I realized that, not only was I barefoot, they always made sure I was barefoot in the house since my last escape attempt, but also that I could never outrun Marvin, even with a head start. In that moment, I took a chance, and, instead of running outside, I stepped into the hallway closet.

What seemed like only a second later, Marvin came crashing down the stairs. Finding the front door open, I don't think he ever considered I might still be in the house, and ran past the closet, straight outside.

"Kevin!"

I sneered. Like I'd answer him! The adrenaline coursing through my system made me shaky, but I still had the presence of mind to reach for my shoes and lace them while listening closely to what was happening outside. All the commotion did not fail to attract Harry who, I presume, had been in the back, overseeing the final details of our move.

"Marv, what the hell are you screaming about?"

His tone was dangerously low. Harry _knew_. Marvin didn't need to say it, Harry knew what had happened. Why else would Marvin be screaming my name?

"Fucking kid ran off!

– Where?"

Harry's voice was hard as flint. He didn't ask Marvin how I had gotten away, that could wait. Harry, always so efficient.

"Don't know, didn't see. He just ran!

– How long?

– Couple of seconds, ten tops!

– He couldn't have gotten far."

I listened as their voices faded away, hardly daring to breathe. I didn't move for fear of betraying my location. It took me a good minute to recognize this for what it was: the opportunity I had been waiting for. The adrenaline rush made me feel almost lightheaded, but my senses were still sharp. Part of me wanted to stay hidden in this closet until Harry and Marvin gave up their search and left without me, but I knew this was just wishful thinking; if they left, it would be with me safely back in their clutches. I couldn't risk that. As quietly as possible, I left the closet and stepped outside.

Looking around and over my shoulder, I realized I had at a clear disadvantage; Harry and Marvin might've had no clue where I had run off to, but neither did I know their location. For all I knew, we might come face to face the moment they decided to retrace their steps! This thought was not an encouraging one. I got my wits back by focusing on my objective.

The house.

I had to get to that house. I had not overcome the most difficult part of my plan just so I could lose sight of my objective. This was no time to get scared.

I turned in the direction I had memorized the previous night and set out in quick strides, not quite running yet, I wasn't confident enough to run. It was no wonder I had missed the house on my previous escape attempt, it was, just like Harry and Marvin's house, well hidden from view by tall pines and firs trees, probably to shield it from the wind. If it hadn't been for that light, I never would've run in that direction.

The season played in my favor; the weather was fair and the afternoon sun was warm on my skin. It was such a beautiful day, it clashed horribly with my level of anxiety and fear. At least I wouldn't have to worry about freezing to death! With summer around the corner, I was no longer restricted to the main road and took full advantage of it. No one had ever told me that the shortest distance between two points was a straight line, yet that's instinctively what I did. Still keeping an eye out for my captors, I climbed over an old rickety fence that was running around an abandoned field.

The grass and weeds in the field were tall, almost as tall as I was, and though it provided me with a useful cover, it also slowed down my progress. The ground was uneven and littered with sharp rocks, it's a miracle I didn't sprain an ankle. Some dry bushes of thistle scratched my exposed arms and face, but I ignored the sting. Once in a while, I would crouch down below the grass level to catch my breath and survey my surroundings, but there were no signs of Harry or Marvin. I was not sure if I should've been worried or relieved, and just kept moving. Safety was so close! When I finally emerged on the other side of the field, I was covered in dust, was scratched all over, and was drenched in sweat. I was panting, and my legs were so wobbly I had some difficulty climbing back over the fence.

Checking the road one last time for one or the other familiar silhouette, I raced up the driveway leading to what I hoped would be my safe haven. When I think back on that day, I now see there were a number of red flags about that place I had been too frightened, too eager, too hopeful to stop and consider.

My first clue that something was wrong was the absence of vehicle. I _did_ notice that. I simply crossed my fingers someone would be home regardless. Besides, I knew we were in the middle of a weekday afternoon; I was prepared to hide in the field until the owners returned if necessary, but I _had_ to know for sure no one was there before giving up. I was, after all, not convinced I would be anymore safe from Harry and Marvin in the field than I had been in the hallway closet.

I ran up the steps of a high veranda and to the front door. The porch light, the light that had guided me all the way here, was still on. I did not stop to wonder why the light would be opened in the middle of day, not everybody had timers on their lights. It was only when I tried to ring the doorbell that I got my second clue something was very, very wrong; it was hanging by its wires and nothing else. I was in such a hurry, I simply fell back on pounding the door with my fists. I didn't want to scream, didn't want to attract unwanted attention, but when no one answered, I grew bolder.

"Help! Is anybody here? Please, help me!"

No steps, no calls, not a single sound came from the house. I pounded on the door one last time, and even kicked it in frustration before leaning against the wall in defeat. Looks like it was back in the field or woods for me. I prayed I would not have to wait for too long. That's when a couple of things caught my eyes. First, I saw a half fallen sign in the middle of the lawn. The sign didn't mean anything to me, but only when I saw it laying there did I see how unkempt the lawn was. It looked almost as bad as the field I had just crossed! Trying to ignore the horrible feeling I had, I turned back to the door. Its paint was peeling off. It was so worn by time and the weather I could see where my fists and foot had made contact. Even placed before all this evidence, I still refused to acknowledge what it meant. I walked over to the bay window and through a thick layer of dirt and grime, I saw… nothing. The living room was completely empty, no furniture, no carpet, no nothing. So was the dining room further to the left, and what I could make out of the kitchen.

This house was deserted.

Had been for a long time, by the looks of it.

I had not expected this. This was a nightmare. A bad joke. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't stay there. I had to run, and fast, but I was suddenly very lost. To have held on to this hope for so long, only to be cheated this way… It wasn't fair!

I tried to get a hold of myself, and fought my despair. I'd have to get back to the road. Stick to the woods. There were over two million people in the greater Chicago area; I was bound to come across another house or car eventually. The important thing was to get as far as-

"There you are, you little runt!"

No! My heart got caught in my throat. I snapped around in fear, and I felt faint when I saw none other than Harry walking up the porch. Running consumed my entire being, but Harry was standing in front of the only fly of stairs. Dumbstruck with terror, I couldn't even scream until Harry took a step toward me.

"Stay away from me!" I shouted, taking two steps back.

Harry did not come any closer, but I knew he wasn't going anywhere.

"That was really mean, running off like that. You gave Marv and me quite the scare, I'll tell you that."

His calm demeanor was not reflected in his eyes that were alert to my every move.

"You've had your fun, now come along, kid.

– No! I'm not going anywhere with you!

– Sure you are." declared Harry in a hand-off manner. "Kicking and screaming, maybe, but you'll come."

His absolute conviction unnerved me. Harry's veiled treats did not change my mind; there was no way I would come quietly! Licking my lips, I quickly glanced at the road, hoping to see an approaching car.

"Don't even think about it, kid. We're far from the main road. You'd never make it." said Harry, taking a new step in my direction.

I retreated a little further down the porch, careful to maintain a safe distance between Harry and me. I tried to buy some time by asking him:

"How did you find me?"

Harry smirked, letting me know he saw right through my act, but he still answered me:

"Easy. I would've run here too, if I hadn't known this house's been empty for years. Let me guess", he added with a touch of amusement "you can see the light from your bedroom window too?"

I did not answer Harry, feeling humiliated and desperate all at once for having been so easily fooled. On the first day of my kidnapping, Marvin had mentioned they didn't have any neighbors; how could I forget?

"Kevin, I'll give you one last chance. Come with me without making a fuss, and I won't punish you like you deserve for running away."

My blood ran cold. _Punish_ me? So far, I had only feared being forced to move should they capture me. I now vividly remembered, Harry's past threats, and slap. Far from convincing me to surrender, I sized Harry up. How fast was he? Marvin could catch up with me in no time, but Harry?

He then made the mistake of taking out his gun.

Harry didn't point it at me, probably thinking I would freeze at the sight of the firearm. As clever as he could be, Harry misjudged my reaction. Fear overshadowed every other consideration, and I fled in the opposite direction, stairs be damned!

"Kevin!" barked Harry.

I did not listen to him, and ran down the porch, climbed the railing, and jumped… right into Marvin's waiting arms.


	14. Chapter 13

_Hello Everybody!_

 _Sorry to have left you on such a cliff-hanger! I have worked extra hard to bring you this new chapter as soon as possible._

 _Since my story no longer takes place around Christmas, I really don't mind writing it in the middle of summer. Helps me make it more accurate, actually. For example, when Kevin ran across the field in the previous chapter, I did walk up the field across the road from where I live and measured the height of the weeds in June it to the height of an average eight year-old. That's how I confirmed it could provide a good cover for Kevin!_

 _Oh, and just for the record, I do not believe in corporal punishment. Now on with the story!_

Chapter 13

My mind was still so wild with fear at the prospect of being shot, that I could not process Marvin's sudden apparition right away. I stood there, paralyzed in his grasp as his lips spread in a sinister smile.

"Gotcha, ya little fuck!"

My eyes widened at the insult. Marvin had _never_ spoken to me that way, which goes to show just how angry he was at my running away. Call me naïve, but I never considered he might hold a grudge against me for kicking him. More than Harry's gun, the dark look I saw in his eyes made me dread what was to come. There had never been any talk of retaliation following the traps I had set for them on Christmas Eve, but this transgression, I saw, would not be so easily forgiven. There was only one thing left for me to do: I screamed. I screamed as loud as I could, at the top of my longs while Marvin _laughed_.

He didn't even try to calm me or shut me up. It was only when I came to my senses and tried to kick myself free that Marvin threw me over his shoulder, cutting off my breath and screams momentarily.

Somewhere above us came Harry's voice:

"I swear the brat's trying to wake the dead! You okay, Marv?

– Don't worry about me, he's not going anywhere!"

Back then, I didn't know what to do and helplessly pounded Marvin's chest and back with my feet and fists, screaming for him to put me down. Marvin quickly got me under control by wrapping his arms around my legs, holding them against him. He didn't do anything about my fists; just like my demands to be put down, they were completely ignored. The insult aside, Marvin did not speak to me as he carried me to the driveway where Harry was waiting. I wish the same could be said about Harry.

"What does it take for you to _shut up_!" he bellowed, giving me a sharp blow upside the head.

I hissed in pain, and felt my eyes watering.

"Let him scream, Harry." countered Marvin. "He'll tire himself out soon enough, and there's no one to hear him anyway.

– _I_ can hear him!"

I thought it wise to be quiet, at least for now. My throat ached from all my screaming, and I craved a glass of water, but something told me my captors would not be predisposed to offer me any refreshments.

Marvin did not put me down, and carried me like this all the way back to the house. This position was not a comfortable on; my ribs hurt and I had to fight to keep my head upright, to stay on the lookout for any sign of help. We did come across an incoming car, but in the distance, I suppose Marvin must've looked like a regular father wrestling with his son. Either they did not hear my screams, didn't care, or thought that was part of our game. The car didn't even slow down. The indifference of those strangers crushed my last hope of escape. I knew nothing about them, who they were, what they looked like, or even how many people were in that car, but at that moment, I hated them even more than I hated Harry and Marvin.

That feeling didn't last.

They were quick to remind me who my true enemies were.

Marvin put me down, or more accurately, threw me to the floor of the now empty living room. I went down with a yelp of surprise and only narrowly avoided hitting my head against the floor.

"This time, you crossed a line, kid."

I tried to get back on my feet, but Marvin shoved his foot on my chest, holding me down. Coming from Marvin, this level of callousness was unforeseen, and, if I must be honest, terrifying.

"Stop it!

– Why ?" asked Marvin without batting an eyelid, pressing harder.

"You're hurting me!"

When I had last tried to escape, these words had been enough to move Marvin. This time, not so much.

"You can take it." was his chilling answer.

Harry's the one who stepped-in.

"Easy, Marv. That's no way to correct the kid. Last thing we need is for him to break something."

Marvin snorted in derision, but he bowed down to Harry's request and lifted his boot off me.

"Well, well" marveled Harry, looking down at me. "Seems to me like somebody fell out of grace with Marv. Good job, kid."

I wish I could've said I didn't care, but I _did_ care. I had become much more dependent on Marvin's kindness than I was willing to admit. It didn't mean I liked it. Just thinking about it was confusing. Instead, I glared hauntingly at Harry as I stood up.

"Get over here!" he snarled, pushing me in front of Marvin. "Anything you want to say?"

It was Marvin's turn to sneer.

"The kid's not getting off by saying he's sorry!"

Sorry? If they thought I would apologize for trying to escape, then Harry and Marvin had another thing coming.

"I'm not sorry! I did what I did because you jerks kidnapped me! And since you're both so stupid to believe I'll follow you anywhere, I hope you get busted by the cops and sent to jail for a hundred years!"

Marvin expressed no shock at my outburst. On the contrary, he almost seemed to welcome it.

"Oh, you're just begging to be put in your place."

I think Harry was more irked by my refusal to crumble than Marvin. In response to my insult, Harry traded his hold on my arm for one on my hair, making me look up at him.

"You should be ashamed, kid." he lectured, waving his index in my face. "After all the trouble we went through to give you a home and everything Marv and me have done for you, this is no way to repay us."

Everything they had done for me? Harry's taunting proved too much. For all the times I wished I'd done so, I spat in his face. The gesture stunned Harry so much he mercifully let go of my hair to wipe his face. My satisfaction was short lived however. Harry dropped all pretences and I was faced with an ugly scowl so similar to that of his brother Sid that I knew what was coming even before I saw his raised fist.

"Harry, stop!" Marvin grabbed Harry's arm before he could strike, making the other man whirl around in anger.

"The lousy brat deserves to a good beating, Marv and don't you _dare_ take his side!"

Marvin didn't let go of Harry's fist. His next words illustrated just how much he was on my side.

"He can't show any bruises, Harry. A scraped knee or arm is normal for a kid but a black eye isn't. We don't want him to draw _that_ kind of attention. Not today. People notice that stuff. They remember and they talk."

That slightly cooled Harry down. He jerked his arm free.

"Maybe, but I know plenty of ways to correct the kid that people won't notice." declared Harry, perhaps testing Marvin's reaction.

Fear gripped my insides. I knew I didn't want to find out what Harry had in store for me. I held my breath, hoping Marvin would somehow find it in him to shield me from Harry's wrath. He rubbed his neck, glanced my way, but turned away before I could catch his eyes.

"Don't overdo it." was all he said without looking at either Harry or me.

I retreated to the furthest corner of the room, panting in fear. My eyes darted about, looking for any means of escape, but I had nowhere left to run.

"Go wait outside, Marv." ordered Harry, his eyes never leaving me. "I'll take care of this."

Marvin didn't argue. I think he was relieved to have Harry's blessing to leave. I watched him walk away, desperately wanting to call to him and say how sorry I was for kicking him, beg him not to leave me to Harry. I'm not sure any amount of begging wouldn't have changed the outcome of that day. Marvin never looked back.

Marvin never hit me. He would restrain me when needed, but he would avoid hurting me if he could help it. I think that was part of their dynamics too. Harry delivered the beatings. Marvin would soothe me afterwards. It was as simple as that.

I turned to Harry, almost expecting him to come charging at me, but he remained where he stood.

"Looks like it's just you and me, kid. Come here."

I didn't move. I'm not even sure I could've complied had I wanted to.

"Don't make this harder on yourself than it needs to be. Come here."

When it became apparent that I wasn't going to cooperate, Harry shook his head.

"Have it your way."

With every step he took in my direction, my level of fear increased with him. It clouded my mind, clouded my judgement. My back hit the wall, and I panicked. In a last ditch attempt to escape Harry, I scurried to the stairs. Why the stairs? Even I couldn't say. It's not like I could've hidden in the empty rooms on the second floor. I never made it to the stairs anyway; Harry had anticipated my reaction, and I learned the hard way that he could be surprisingly fast. When he moved, he didn't run, he pounced. With a speed that betrayed his experience, Harry had my arm twisted behind my back. I screamed in terror and kicked his shin, but that only made Harry twist my arm further up my back. I stopped struggling; Harry had a hold on my right arm, the one I had broken.

"Let go!

– Oh no, you've had enough running around for one day. Walk."

With one hand on my arm and the other on the back of my neck, Harry led me through the kitchen and down to the basement. I had little choice but to follow. At first, I thought he would lock me in the storage room. I must confess that in all my months of captivity in that house, I had never longed more for that dark dungeon. Anything was preferable to the beating Harry had promised. The storage room was ignored however and he took me to the other side of the basement. There was nothing on that side, just unfinished walls and exposed pipes.

"What are you going to do?"

Harry didn't answer me. He let go of my neck and reached for something I didn't see in his pocket. I was so sure he'd take out the gun, I started to hyperventilate.

"Quit your whining! I haven't even touched you yet." growled Harry.

"You're going to shoot me, aren't you?

– Kid, if I wanted to shoot you, I'd have taken you outside, not in the basement."

I could always find such _comfort_ in Harry's words.

In any case, I didn't have time to recover from my fright; I felt something hard and cold close around one of my wrists. Before I could process what he had done, Harry slipped a metal chain through one of the pipes and locked it on my other wrist. When he let go, I realized to my horror, that he had handcuffed me. They hadn't tied me down since the night I woke up in their van.

"Don't- Take them off!" I screamed, pulling on the chain.

Harry pretended not to hear.

"You're going to stay down here for a while. When I come back, we're going to talk things out."

I didn't care about what Harry had just said. The only thing I cared about was getting rid of those handcuffs. Being locked away was one thing, being tied down was something else.

"Untie me! Harry, please, I'm sorry!

– No, you're not. But we'll work on that."

Ignoring my pleading, Harry went back upstairs, leaving me tied to that pipe. I pulled and tugged on the handcuffs until my wrists begged for mercy, but it was no use. I examined the pipe, the chain and lock without knowing what I was looking for. I knew from movies and television shows that these could be picked, but I had no clue how. I did not even think back on the paperclips I had scorned earlier, which I suppose was for the best; it would've just frustrated me. Had I taken one, I would not have known how to use it anyway.

Over the years, I became quite familiar with that pair of handcuffs. Harry and Marvin used it often enough to restrain me, but it was also the first pair of handcuffs Harry taught me how to pick. He made a game out of it. Would reward me based on how fast I would unlock myself. Thanks to him, I can now pick any double-lock handcuffs with my eyes closed in a matter of seconds. I have so little use for the key anymore I might have lost it at some point. I carry those handcuffs around all the time. Gives me something to fiddle with whenever I get bored. Impressed the hell out of Macky the first time he caught me playing with them. It's hard to believe I was once defeated by such a simple contraption. Harry hadn't even tied my hands in my back! Child play! Of course, I did not think so back then. And there was nothing amusing with what followed.

I don't know how long Harry was gone; half an hour, forty-five minutes, I suppose. When he returned, I watched him walk up to me with a mix of defiance and trepidation. As he got nearer, I saw he was holding something.

It was a belt folded in half.

I wanted to scream for my mother. Curl myself on the floor and cry. I remembered Harry threatening to use his belt on me, but I never thought he'd do it. It was just an expression. No one actually did that!

Standing before me, Harry did not brandish the belt. He crossed his arms in his back, hiding it from my view.

"Had enough time to think about what you did?"

I hadn't given it a thought.

"Are you going to hurt me?" I asked with a shaky voice.

"We'll get to that."

I whimpered, and shrank back, but the handcuffs held me in place. Harry pretended not to notice.

"First we gotta talk about what happened today. You've been very bad, you know that right?"

I did not dignify this question with an answer. I refused to admit I had done anything wrong. They had no right to keep me against my will, all I wanted was to go home! I was itching to spit my anger at him, but the belt in Harry's hand reined in my temper.

"Kevin!" snapped Harry, making me jump back. "When I ask you a question, you _will_ answer me. Tell me what you did today.

– I… I ran away" I stammered. There was no use denying it.

"Yes, you did. What else?"

What else? Ah… yes. I tried to swallow my nervousness, but my mouth felt so dry.

"I spat at you." I mumbled, expecting a blow at any second.

"And…? Aren't you forgetting someone?

– And I kicked Marv.

– After he's been so nice to you, too. And you're not the least bit sorry about that, are you?

– I didn't mean to hurt him!" I felt the need to protest, like that would've changed anything.

"You really disappointed us today, you know that? After what happened last time, we thought we'd made it clear that there would be no more running away.

– Marv said you'd take me far away! I don't want to leave!" I cried in my defense.

A glimmer of understanding crossed Harry's face, but it quickly disappeared and his expression became smooth again.

"That's not for you to decide. The running away has got to stop, understand?"

There were many things I did not comprehend, starting with the man in front of me, but I knew that given another chance, I'd still run. I nodded nevertheless. What else could I do? Harry searched my eyes for a long moment, making me uncomfortable.

"What do I have to do to make you understand?"

I fidgeted under his unflinching gaze without knowing what to say.

"Kevin, do you know what would've happened if we hadn't caught up with you today?"

Images of my parents and family briefly flashed before my eyes.

"You _never_ would've made it back to your mom and dad." said Harry, shattering my dream. "If you ever run away, I'll tell you what'll happen. I'd have to call Sid and Charlie. And you _don't_ want me to do that. You know why?"

That was a rhetorical question. I gasped when I saw Harry pull out his gun, and fought against the handcuffs that kept me from running. Never breaking eye contact, Harry deliberately cocked the gun and held it to my temple. Terrified, I pressed myself against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut.

"You said you wouldn't shoot me!"

– Kevin, look at me, this is important."

I fearfully cracked an eye open. Harry wasn't smiling or enjoying my squirming.

"I'm not going to pull the trigger. But my brothers would. Do you understand?"

I weakly nodded, shaking like a leaf. As scared as I was, I don't think Harry found my response convincing.

"They would find you, and they would kill you, Kevin. They would kill you, and anyone who tried to help you. If you somehow made it home, my brothers would follow you there. Chances are, they'd be waiting for you. Is that what you want?"

Harry wasn't bluffing or trying to intimidate me into submission. The idea of Sid or Charlie coming anywhere near my family made me shudder. From the little I had seen of Sid, I knew the killing of a child wouldn't weigh on him. I did not know much about the elusive Charlie, but I did not forget how even Sid had been unwilling to incur his disapproval. Those would be the kind of men that would be on my trail. That I would lead straight to my family.

"Running away won't end well for you, or your family. Tell me you see it now.

– Yes…" I whispered.

"No more running away?"

I shook my head. And at the time, I did mean it. I had been so focused on escaping my immediate captors that I'd never given Harry's brothers much thought. It took Harry to make me realize what kind of threat Sid and Charlie represented, but I only understood what high stakes they both had in making sure I'd never escape their brother years later. I did not see or even considered how much I knew. Too much. Like Harry, they would do whatever was necessary to ensure I did not compromise them or their future, with little regards for my well-being.

"See" said Harry, pulling the gun away. "Now I believe you."

He un-cocked the gun and it disappeared back in his coat. I breathed easier.

"Can I go now, please?"

Harry frowned, shaking his head slowly.

"Not yet. We're not done."

Harry shifted the belt from his left hand to the right, making every hair on my body stand on end. What with the gun, I'd completely forgotten about the belt.

"Don't… Don't touch me!

– You disobeyed and you were disrespectful. Your parents might've put up with your tantrums, but not me.

– But I'm sorry! I really am!" I said in deadly earnest.

"Turn around, kid. Let's get this over with."

But I couldn't move. I stood there, staring at Harry with terrified disbelief. He didn't ask twice. Harry roughly turned me over and the first blow fell on my back.

I didn't scream.

Not right away.

My mind was in such denial over the sheer brutality of his action that I didn't feel anything at first. And then the pain came rushing fast. So strong that it rendered me incapable of any rational thought. The second blow made me fall to my knees. I curled up, trying to shield myself from Harry's lashes. I erupted into screams soon afterwards. I screamed, and screamed, and begged until my voice broke.

I don't know how many lashes I received that day. The number didn't mean anything next to the pain spreading from my shoulders to my lower back. Breathing hard, I stayed where I was. I couldn't bring myself to raise my head, not even when Harry spoke.

"Did you learn your lesson?"

I made myself nod, not trusting my voice.

"Are you ready to apologize to Marv for what you did?"

Hot tears rolled down my cheeks, but again I nodded.

"Good. Don't make me do that again."

Harry unlocked the handcuffs and forced me to my feet. My entire body protested, but I repressed my screams as Harry led me back upstairs. God, I thought getting up those stairs would be the end of me. Every step was torture. My unsteady legs only just carried me, but with Harry breathing down my neck, pushing me whenever I slowed down, I managed to make it.

It was early in the evening. The sun was lower, but still shining, and I could hear birds sing in a nearby tree. It almost seemed to mock me after what I'd just gone through in the basement.

"We wasted enough time as it is." informed me Harry

He pointed to the main floor washroom. For a brief second, I did not know what Harry meant until he added:

"We're going to be on the road for a while. Either you go to the washroom now or you hold it in, cause we're not stopping for a few hours."

Right… We were moving today. They were taking me far away.

I closed the door of the washroom, glad to have it standing between Harry and me. I moved in a daze, dimly aware of my tears filled eyes. I didn't want to think about what had just happened. Tears of pain, tears of humiliation and shame streamed down my face. It hurt so much. The pain refused to fade whether I moved or stayed still. I knew I didn't have much time until Harry pounded on that door, but I seemed to move in slow motion. As I washed my hands, I only then remembered how thirsty I was. There was no glass, so I cupped my hands and drank my fill. The water fell on an empty stomach, reminding me I hadn't eaten that day. It didn't matter, I felt sick at the mere thought of food.

"Are you done!" shouted Harry from the other side of the door.

Although I had expected him to do something like this, I still jumped back, only to regret it when a throbbing pain followed my sudden movement. I bent over the sink, gritting my teeth until the pain receded. I never wanted to see Harry again. Too bad that wasn't an option.

Harry was waiting for me, arms crossed with Marvin standing a few feet behind him. I took-in Harry's severe expression, his pursed lips, and Marvin's paleness with renewed fear. What had I done this time? I hadn't done anything, I-

The message.

Had Harry or Marvin found it? I felt weak just thinking about what Harry would do to me this time.

"So, got anything to say to Marv?" prompted Harry.

I blinked a few times, trying to make sense of Harry's request. What did I have to say to Marvin? I took a sharp intake of breath as relief coursed through me. They hadn't found it.

"We're waiting, kid."

Harry's voice snapped me back to reality. Right, they wanted me to apologize. My mind still rebelled against the very idea, but Harry wouldn't have it any other way. I took a few tentative steps in Marvin's direction, and looking down at my shoes, I offered what I hoped would pass as a sincere apology.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, and for running away."

As an afterthought, I added hastily:

"I won't do it again. Ever.

– It's okay, kid. We're good." Marvin replied, awkwardly.

He sounded just as uncomfortable as I was by the whole situation.

"Now that we're a happy family again" said Harry, his voice dripping with sarcasm "you wanna put the finishing touch on the kid, or shall I?

– I'll do it, it's fine." Marvin assured Harry, taking the tube of mascara from him.

I did not protest. The mascara didn't matter anymore. Marvin lifted my chin, and I avoided making eye contact with him. He lifted the brush to my eye level, but then stopped. He sighed before letting go.

"In the washroom, kid." he ordered.

"What's wrong? Need more light?

– No Harry. Did you look at the kid? He can't go out like this, he's a mess!"

Harry took a second look at me.

"Make it quick, will ya. We should've left already."

All the towels had been packed away, so Marvin cleaned me up as best as he could, using some wet toilet paper. I could not stop trembling which did not help my scorching back. Marvin cast some worried looks my way, but didn't ask any question. He gently dried my face before applying the mascara to my eyebrows.

"Don't do his eyelashes" mentioned Harry, who was still hovering around.

"Why?

– It'll run the second he'll cry."

I saw Marvin falter for a second there. It must've been a little harder for him to pretend they were still the good guys in all this.

"Fine. I'm done. No one should come close enough to see his eye lashes anyway." recovered Marvin.

We left the house the same way I came in all those months ago: through the kitchen. Marvin locked up the house, while Harry had a firm grip on my arm.

"So you still want to follow the car?" Marvin asked, walking up to us.

"Change of plans. I'm driving the car, you take the van."

The idea of spending the next hours with either one of them in a confined space repulsed me, but given a choice, I'd choose Marvin over Harry any day. I knew better that to express this preference aloud. Marvin did sound surprised by this change of plans.

"But we said-

– I know what we said. We'll switch later. You can't deal with the kid right now."

My eyes had been glued to the ground until Harry spoke these last words. I glanced up at Marvin and saw him chewing on his lips. For a moment, it looked like Marvin was going to argue, but then gave up and handed Harry the car keys. I moaned internally.

I hadn't given the car ride itself a thought until Harry pushed me into the backseat. The second my back made contact with the seat, I screamed at the renewed pain. Harry must've expected as much, he didn't even flinch.

"Relax, kid. You're in for a long ride."

Very long indeed, half the backseat was filled with bags, and there were boxes on the floor. That didn't leave me much space to stretch my legs. To top it all off, Harry took out his handcuffs again.

"No! I won't run, I promise!" I half cried, half begged as he slipped them through a short chain they had fixed to one of the lower baby seat anchors.

"I know you won't. And these'll make sure you keep your word."

There was no escaping Harry. Not in that car. Not in my condition. And so for the second time that day, I found myself handcuffed, and at Harry's mercy.

"Don't look at me that way, kid." sneered Harry, noticing my hateful glare "You've made your bed. Lie in it."

Harry engaged the child lock on the door, and slammed it shut. I was trapped.

How I hated Harry. For the beating, for the threats, for his brothers, for winning, for everything, really. I bit my lips so hard to keep myself from exploding with rage I tasted blood. I embraced the hate. It was preferable to despair and kept my eyes dry.

"Where are you taking me?" I hissed the moment Harry sat in the driver's seat.

– Somewhere nobody'll look for you" was his cryptic answer.

Most likely to discourage any more questions, Harry turned on the radio and cranked up the volume. He didn't look back at me. If he had, he might've wondered what I was grimly smiling about. They might've prevented me from running that day, but I hadn't completely lost.

They hadn't found my message.


	15. Chapter 14

_Hello dear readers!_

 _Thank you once again for all your reviews and I apologize for the late update! I must confess I have stated a new writing project. Fear not, it is related to Home Alone and this story. I started to write scenes from the McCallister's side of the story. I had all this information in my mind, so I thought, why not! I will post them on the site as soon as I have a couple more done._

 _Stay tuned!_

Chapter 14

I don't remember much about the car ride. I remember it being long and oh so boring. And painful. That I'll never forget. I felt every pothole, every bump on the road and would moan in discomfort. Harry did not speak to me. At least he didn't make fun of me. Once in a while, I would catch him checking up on me in the rear view mirror. I'm not sure what he thought I might do, I couldn't even lift my hands to the window! I would know, I tried. I would've loved to crack one open, the day had been hot, and the air in the car was stifling.

There wasn't much for me to do but sit in silence. I tried to guess what our final destination would be by keeping an eye on road signs, exit numbers and what freeways Harry used, but I soon gave up. Aside from the highways around Chicago, I was not familiar enough with the road system to orient myself. Less than an hour after our departure, I was completely lost.

Time went by slowly. Since we had left on a weekday evening, the circulation was fluid and there were no traffic jams to delay us. I watched the sun set and night fall. We had left so late, I vaguely hoped this would mean they weren't taking me as far as they had led me to believe they would. I didn't ask about our destination again. Instead, I listened to the radio while looking out the window. I assumed Marvin was following us, but the cargo trailer blocked the van from my view.

I wanted to ignore the handcuffs that kept me from shifting my position, but as the hours passed, I got more and more uncomfortable in my seat. I just wanted us to get to wherever we were going. What with the little sleep I had got the night before and the day I just had, I wish I could've closed my eyes and dozed off, but my back wouldn't let me.

Of all the forced road trips I've taken with Harry and Marvin, this one might not be the longest, but it sure felt like it. We did stop along the way, but only to refill the van and car. If the radio was to be believed, it was around half past eleven.

The station was deserted, but for a lone employee at the cash register. He didn't even lift his eyes from whatever magazine he was looking at when we pulled in. Marvin then parked the van in front of the car, shielding me from his view. I'm not sure the employee ever saw or cared that Harry and Marvin were travelling with a child. Why would he?

They both filled up the vehicles, talking quietly to each other. This was the first time Harry and Marvin had taken me in a populated area since Detroit. They were both nervous and made sure to keep their backs turned to the gas station security cameras.

When time came to pay, Marvin took care of it while Harry watched me and our surroundings. I remembered how Harry had said that he and Marvin would switch vehicles at some point and hoped this would be the moment. Unfortunately, there was no more mention of it. When Marvin returned, he handed a key to Harry and pointed to the side of the station.

"We're in luck, the washroom's that way.

– Good. How's the guy?

– Bored and half asleep. Nothing to worry about."

Harry then spoke to me for the first time in hours:

"You need to go to the washroom again?"

I did not really need to, but nodded nonetheless. Any excuse to get out of the car and for him to take the handcuffs off was a welcomed one.

"You want me to take him?" suggested Marvin.

Oh please, please let it be Marvin, I prayed in silence, but Harry had already shaken his head.

"No, I got this. Keep an eye out for trouble; I'll keep an eye on the kid."

He walked to my side of the car to remove the handcuffs.

"Remember what we talked about, kid. Don't try anything stupid."

Before letting me out of the car, Harry produced an old baseball cap for me to wear. It was too big, but he said it would do. Squeezing my hand in his, Harry led me to the side of the station Marvin had pointed to. He unlocked the washroom door and pushed me inside.

"You got two minutes. Don't make me come and get you."

I really didn't want him to. My first outing into the world must've pushed his stress level to the limit, especially so soon after my escape attempt. To make matter worse, when I emerged from the washroom a few minutes later, I found that the gas station was no longer empty. A pickup truck was parked in front of the car and a sullen faced woman was filling up the tank.

Harry quickly pulled me against him in the shadows. It would be impossible for us to walk back to our vehicle without her seeing us and I don't think Harry trusted me that close to strangers yet. One of his hands was resting on my throat, and I did not dare open my mouth.

But then Marvin was there, striking a conversation with the woman like it was no big deal, making her turn away from us. I watched in both surprise and fascination as the woman's sullenness melted away under Marvin's candid smile. They didn't talk long, but by the end of their conversation, the woman climbed back into her truck, rosy cheeks, waiving Marvin goodbye as she drove off.

Harry waited a few more seconds before walking me back to the car at a brisk pace that put my back to agony.

"You offered that woman to pay for her gas, didn't you?" he hissed at his partner the moment he was within earshot. "Way to keep a low profile!

– Got rid of her, didn't I? Twenty bucks well spent if you ask me.

– Whatever. Go pay and let's just get out of here before someone else shows up.

– You want some coffee for the road?

– Sure. Make it quick" sighed Harry.

And so Marvin went back inside the station while I was returned to the car. Harry roughly to put my shackles back on, and noticing how agitated he was, I did not try to talk him out of it. Marvin wasn't gone very long; he handed a cup of coffee to Harry and tossed a juice box my way. Harry started the car, and checked his watch.

"We'll stop again in two hours. How's that?"

Two hours? Might as well say an eternity! And from the sound of it, we would not have reached out final destination by then. How long would we be on the road? Had I been riding with Marvin, I'm sure I would've found a way to get him to tell me where we were going.

"You think we'll find something open this late?" worried Marvin.

"There's always something open."

And off we went again. I drank my juice in silence, somewhat grateful Marvin had not forgotten about me. The juice was refreshing, but I was again reminded of how many meals I had skipped. I hadn't had anything to eat in over a day.

"Are we there yet?" I asked out of habit.

"Don't you start!" snapped Harry.

I so wanted to annoy Harry. I had nothing better to do, and he couldn't exactly do anything about it while he was driving, but I now knew what crossing him meant, so I went back to staring out the window. There were fewer and fewer cars on the road. The night was pitched black and we went through great lengths of road not covered by streetlights. I recalled some of Buzz's ghost stories about haunted highways and grew uneasy. After I while, I didn't want to peer into the darkness anymore. Using my feet, I pushed and moved some bags around so I could lie on the backseat in a semi-comfortable position.

Most of our road trips aren't as boring as this first one was. I'll usually have a Gameboy, some comic books or a discman to keep me busy. They also won't handcuff me anymore. Though that came later, it was a major improvement to my travel arrangements. That first trip was a learning experience for the three of us.

About two hours later, maybe more, maybe less, there was no way for me to be sure, Harry got off the highway. He slowed down, and eventually pulled over. Sitting back up and saw that we were in the parking lot of some twenty-four hour diner. Marvin parked right next to us, and Harry stepped outside the car to talk to him. For a minute there, I was in despair at the thought they might leave me in the car to go grab a bite to eat. I wasn't thinking clearly. They never would've left me alone, not even in a dark and near empty parking lot in the middle of the night.

After a brief discussion, Marvin walked into the diner alone. Harry stayed behind. I watched him with envy as he paced the parking lot. That quick stop at the gas station had not been nearly long enough to allow me to stretch my legs, and I wished Harry would let me out again. I also knew he wouldn't do so without a good reason. I waited until Harry got close enough to call out his name. His head snapped in my direction, and he walked back to the car, his eyes blazing with fury. I shrank back a little.

"Be quiet! What do you want?

– I need to go to the washroom.

– Again!

– I had juice."

Harry glanced back at the diner. He clearly did not want to take me inside, but the washroom excuse was not one he could ignore. Just when I thought he would give in, Marvin exited the diner with a few paper bags in hand. He sat in the passenger seat of the car, next to Harry, carrying a smell of cooked food with him.

"What'd you get?

– Just some hamburgers and fries.

– Figures that joint wouldn't have any real food. The kid needs to go to the washroom. Again."

Marvin did not sound as annoyed as Harry. If anything, he sounded cautious when he turned to me.

"Don't you want to eat first? We'll take you after."

To eat or stretch my legs? It was very late for a picnic, but my stomach growled and my mouth was already watering at the prospect of food. That round was easily won by my stomach. Harry uncuffed me once again, and Marvin handed me a bag of my own. He did not get me a hamburger; I got some animal shaped chicken nuggets with fries and a milk box.

"Try not to get ketchup everywhere." warned Harry.

I gladly ate my midnight dinner, no longer caring to listen to their discussion about what road they should take next. They talked about towns and highways I'd never heard of, with no mention of any of the major cities I would've been familiar with, so why bother? I didn't want to think about it anymore and concentrated on my food. Soon, all my nuggets were gone, along with all my fries. Marvin had bought me a kid's meal. After a day of fast, it was hardly enough to satisfy my hunger, but I wasn't sure how to breach the subject. Harry and Marvin had never starved me, but I had also never asked for a second plate before. To my relief, I never needed to ask. As Marvin was collecting our empty wrapping paper and napkins, he's the one who brought up dessert:

"Hey kid, how about a sundae?"

Ice cream was a weakness of mine that Harry and Marvin had been quick to pick up on.

"A sundae?" interrupted Harry. "After how he behaved today? He doesn't deserve ice cream!

– Lay off him, will ya, Harry. He learned his lesson I'll get him a sundae and it'll be _fine_."

There was a warning in Marvin's voice and I looked from him to Harry in confusion. They were glaring at one another in silence. I could sense an entire conversation behind that one look, but I had no idea what this was about.

"Okay, let's do it your way then." said Harry in a low and unreadable tone "I'll take the kid to the washroom, you get him a sundae."

Marvin looked relieved, and turned his attention back to me.

"They got strawberry, chocolate and caramel. Which one do you want?

– Chocolate?

– Of course" smiled Marvin. "It's always chocolate."

We crossed the parking lot together, both of them holding on to me.

"Okay, kid; now remember, what's your name?" quietly asked Marvin before entering the diner.

"Kevin… Merchants?"

Marvin stopped at my hesitation and looked at Harry with concern. Harry was usually much more patient when it came to the touchy subject of my name, but on that night they couldn't afford any mistake.

"Don't worry; I'll make sure no one asks for his name." Harry assured Marvin. "As for you kid, I swear if you make a sound, just one…"

My fears were justified when Harry pressed the canon of the gun he carried in his pocket against the back of my neck. The diner wasn't busy at this time of night. A television no one was listening to was open to some late night talk show behind the counter. Most of the tables were empty, save for a couple of booths near the window. No one looked our way when we walked in, and Marvin was quick to draw the attention of the waitress, while Harry located the washrooms.

Had any of the patrons looked up from their cups of coffee or glasses of beer, would they have noticed anything strange about our behaviour? Would any of them have been able to recognize me after all these months, the haircut, hair dye and baseball cap? I suppose not. Why would they? Nobody ever thinks they'll come across a kidnap child; they might see the information on the news, say how horrible that is, but they'll forget about it just as quick. No one ever really takes a good hard look around themselves.

I sometimes wonder what would've happened had I screamed for help. Both Harry and Marvin carried handguns, but would they have actually used them? Now that I really think about it, I don't think they would've. Robbery and kidnapping were serious crimes, but it was a long way from opening fire on strangers in a diner. Truth is, I'm not sure how Harry and Marvin would've reacted, just like I can't be sure any of the patrons would've seen me as anything more than a tired child having a tantrum. I also remembered how the passing car had ignored my screams earlier that day. Why would these strangers react any differently?

I was too young for that kind of reflections anyway. The threat of the gun was more than enough to ensure my compliance. From my childish perspective, murder did not seem beyond Harry and Marvin.

So I didn't say a word, didn't make a sound, and followed Harry, eyes cast down. I went to the washroom and he got me out of there pronto. Only when he had got me safely back in the car did Harry relax. I had, after all, behaved.

Marvin came back a few minutes later with my promised sundae, a coffee for Harry and a milkshake for himself.

"See how nice Marv is? What do you say, kid?

– Thank you, Marv." I dutifully answered.

"Just eat you ice cream, kid."

For some reason, Marvin would not meet my eyes when he handed me the sundae. I thought that was a little strange, but just assumed he was still angry with me over the afternoon incident.

"Don't waste it." added Harry.

What a silly thing for Harry to say; I wouldn't let ice cream go to waste!

Life is made of small series of firsts; first word, first tooth, first steps, first day of school, etc. Living with Harry and Marvin, I was introduced to a whole new world of firsts; first stitches, first scar, first beating, first handcuffs and, of course, first time they ever spiked my food.

I had no reason to suspect anything when Marvin gave me the sundae; they had been handling my food for months without ever employing this dirty trick. What can I say, I guess they'd been saving it for a special occasion, and what was more special than our first family trip? They didn't use any of the cheap pills sold over the counter either; dear doctor Moore had provided Harry and Marvin with the good stuff, probably on Charlie's recommendation. He really was always one step ahead of everyone.

I suppose I shouldn't be too angry at Marvin for this latest betrayal. After having lived through the alternative, which was them holding me down to shove a pill down my throat, I know which option I prefer.

I was still pretty hungry and gulped down the first spoonful of ice cream without noticing anything. I eventually detected a faint aftertaste, but thought nothing of it. It was ice cream covered in chocolate syrup! Like most kids, I would've eaten dirt covered in chocolate. I ate the frozen treat to the last spoonful.

By the time Harry finished his coffee and they had both gone to the washroom, a strange heaviness had taken over me. My vision became unfocused and I didn't have the strength to keep my eyes open. I didn't understand what was happening, and was puzzled by what didn't feel like natural slumber. The last thing I remember is Marvin laying a pillow next to me and handing me my elephant.

From what I understand, it was only after I'd fallen asleep that Harry and Marvin switched vehicles. I don't know how long they drove that night; I was knocked out solid. There was only one thing that filtered through the haze of the drug, and that was pain. As long as I remained motionless, it was under control, but I distinctly remember a sudden bolt of pain running though me as someone pulled me out of my seat and picked me up. My back screamed in protest, but I could only muster a weak wail that someone I later realized must've been Marvin, quickly hushed. The drug soon took over once more and I was plunged back into blissful oblivion.

Whatever drug they gave me did much more than make me sleep; it also left me very confused. As a result, not only did I have no idea where I was upon waking up, but the events of the past months were momentarily forgotten.

As I laid in the dark, I thought myself safe in my own bed back at home, but some things did not add up. The lumpy mattress I was resting on had nothing in common with the lower bunk of the twin bunk bed I shared with Jeff. The darkness that surrounded me was thick and I vaguely wondered why the nightlight in the hallway wasn't on. That was weird; my mother would always make sure it was turned on before going to bed. What was more worrisome was the fact I could not hear my brother's soft and regular breath above me. I did make out other sounds. Unfamiliar sounds. Someone, something was in the dark with me, and that someone was not my brother. When I tried to sit up, pain kept me from moving, and I found my hands were caught in something. I was trapped. I got scared. I did the only thing any child in this situation would do: I screamed for my parents.

I only wanted a reaction to make sense of my situation, and boy did I get one! It however wasn't the one I'd been hoping for. Instead of being answered by one of my parents, my cry was greeted by Harry's loud curse. His voice did stir up a memory, but that impression was so closely associated with that of fear, it only renewed my screams. Something hit the floor somewhere in the darkness.

"Where's the goddamn light!" said Marvin just as Harry yelled:

"Shut up!"

An object soft but heavy hit me square in the chest, morphing my screams into cries. Seconds later, a light was turned on and I was frightened to discover I was not in my bedroom, but an unknown place where two large beds had been crammed into.

A bare chested Marvin had jumped out of bed and hurried over to my side. Not to attend to me, no Marvin cared much more about muffling my screams than my distress.

"Kevin, calm down." he pleaded with impatience.

Easy for him to say! How could I calm down when I didn't know where I was, where my parents were or, better yet, who he and Harry were? I wanted to push Marvin away, but my hands were still held back. I lifted my eyes and saw that I had been handcuffed to the armrest of the wooded couch I was lying on.

"Did you throw your pillow at the kid? That's mature!" Marvin accused Harry, throwing the pillow back at him.

"Told ya we should've gagged him!" He growled back from his bed.

"We are not gagging the kid! You want him to suffocate in his sleep or something?

– He would not suffocate! For Christ's sake, he's going to wake the entire motel with his screaming!

– It's a motel, there's always someone screaming in the middle of the night."

I found the subject of their bickering alarming and I tried to bite Marvin's hand.

"Stop that! Just calm down and stop screaming, and I'll take my hand off.

– Give him a good slap, that'll shut him up!

– Harry, you are so _not_ helping!"

Harry.

The name finally jolted my memory, and I stopped struggling against Marvin as the souvenir of the past months slowly came back to me. I wanted to find out where we were, but when Marvin removed his hand, I found myself asking in denial of the situation:

"Where's my mom? I want my dad!

– Not this again! We've been through this, kid. They're gone!" harshly reminded me Harry.

I knew he wasn't lying. The more I remembered, the more I wished I didn't. My memories were not to my liking, but I remembered.

"Moore said he'd be confused." remarked Marvin.

"That bitch should've given us something stronger; I thought he'd be out for the rest of the night!

– She couldn't. Too young, remember?"

That's how I came to understand they had given me something to make me so sleepy. I didn't understand why they would do that. I felt betrayed, confused and more than a little scared.

"Untie me?" I asked Marvin.

"Marv, don't even think about it!" ordered Harry.

Marvin looked at me with regret.

"Sorry, kid. We need to sleep. Tomorrow mor-

– I promise I won't run! Please!"

I had raised my voice again, resulting in Harry calling sharply to Marvin and him silencing me again.

"No more of that, kid. Do you want me to gag you for the rest of the night?"

I whined, but shook my head.

"That's what I thought. You be quiet, or else. Try to sleep."

I didn't want to sleep, not right away. My captors were not my friends, and I did not wish to antagonize them, but I had just woken up in a strange place. I didn't want to be alone.

"I'm thirsty." I claimed when Marvin took his hand off.

In my defense, I wasn't just trying to stall, well maybe just a little, but I was kind of thirsty.

"Would you stop cuddling the brat, already!" hissed Harry. "The sun's almost up and he's just playing you!"

I looked at Marvin with my most innocent expression. Regardless of what had happened in the last twenty-four hours, he still had a soft spot for me.

"Just a small glass of water, and then you had better let us sleep." conceded Marvin.

"Sucker!" muttered Harry, rolling over in his bed.

Marvin ignored him and got me a glass of water from the bathroom. He even helped me lift my head, and held the glass to my lips for me to drink.

"Now I don't want to hear another word from you till morning, got that?" said Marvin, stifling a yawn.

He retrieved my stuffed elephant that had fallen off the couch and placed it next to me. I was tired, but sleep wouldn't come. After having spent so many months in a house in the middle of nowhere, the sounds of the nearby city kept me awake. I listened to the passing cars, laugher, drunker holler and even crying of the other motel guests. Everything seemed so loud and threatening. I'm not sure Harry and Marvin had much sleep either after I had awoken them with my screams. They must've lain awake in their bed, holding their breath, fingers crossed, hoping I'd stay silent.

Thoughts and escape plans were not on my mind. After my spectacular failure, I didn't see how I could escape anymore. Most importantly, the drug they gave me left me drained and feeling somewhat detached from my current predicament. I was much more preoccupied by the discomfort of my restraints and my back than by any thoughts of the future. I saw the sun rise, and the pale light of dawn filter through the side of the blinds. By the time I fell asleep, the shadows of the room had receded to the far side of the room.

I awoke some time later that morning. Harry had already showered and was dressed for the day. I could hear the shower running and figured that was where Marvin was. I didn't stir right away, watching as Harry went over some documents and counted money on his bed. He opened a map in front of him, studying it and making some notes on the side from time to time. The shower stopped and not long after, Marvin stepped out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel.

"The hair blower's not working." he complained.

"Are you really surprised?

– No. Just tell me we won't have to sleep in another one of these dumps tonight.

– We shouldn't. We're making good time."

Putting the money back in an envelope, Harry glanced my way.

"Well look who's awake. About time too.

– Can you untie me, now?

– Marv'll take care of you."

Harry grabbed his wallet.

"I'm going to the bank and fill the car and van. I'll pick us up something to eat and we'll leave right after, how's that?

– Sure. Get me a bear claw." requested Marvin as he finished brushing his hair.

Harry left and Marvin retrieved the handcuff keys from the nightstand.

"Hope you slept well kid, we got another long day ahead." he informed me as he unlocked and pocketed the handcuffs.

"You made me sleep." I accused. "You gave me something to make me sleep."

Marvin paused. He didn't look embarrassed, but maybe he had hoped I wouldn't pick up on that information.

"Just a little." he didn't deny.

"Why?" I asked, full of resentment.

"It was easier that way." Marvin said, turning away from me.

I didn't ask him what had been easier. I recognised his half-answers, and knew I wouldn't get anything more out of him.

At last freed of the handcuffs, I tried to sit up only to find I was aching all over. I let myself fall back to my pillow. The pain in my back felt sharper than it had the day before! Now what was I supposed to do?

Marvin didn't catch my reaction. He opened the blinds, letting the sunlight flow in before rummaging through my bag to select my clothes for the day. He threw those my way, frowning upon discovering I hadn't moved from the couch.

"Get in the shower kid. Harry won't take long."

The easiest way I found to get off the couch was to slowly roll off it and then rise to my feet. I gathered the clothes Marvin had picked, not really caring what they were, and made my way to the bathroom, leaning on the bed and furniture to aid me.

"What are you playing at, kid? Hurry up, will ya." said Marvin as he watched my slow progress.

I didn't bother answering and closed the bathroom door behind me. I was then faced with an unforeseen problem: I couldn't take my shirt off. The combined efforts of lifting my arms and pulling my shirt over my head put too much strain on my back and after contorting my body in different angles without success, I gave up. It was with loathing that I resigned myself to ask Marvin for help.

I found him watching the news. He seemed amused by something.

"Marv?

– Hum?" seeing I was still wearing yesterday's clothes, his amusement faded away. "What did I tell you, kid? Hit the shower!

– Can you help?

– With what?

– My shirt. Can you help?"

Back when my arm was still in its cast, Marvin would usually help me with my clothes.

"What's wrong with your arm? When did you hurt your arm?

– My back hurts." I admitted without looking his way.

Marvin closed the television in a sigh.

"You never complained about sleeping on the couch before." he said, taking a hold on my right arm. "Tonight you should be back in-"

Marvin stopped talking the moment he lifted my shirt. I raised my head and saw how he was staring at my back. His eyes were troubled. He licked my lips and let go of me.

"Kid, did you… Did Harry…?"

He didn't finish his question. I stared back at him, my eyes clouded with anger. How dare he ask? How dare he act like he didn't turn a blind eye, or given Harry his blessing to do as he pleased with me? What did Marvin think Harry meant when he said I deserved "a beating"? A slap on the wrist? I recalled what he had told me on the night before our departure; it seemed like a lifetime ago.

"You said you wouldn't hurt me."

My words struck a nerve. Marvin bit his lips and he looked riddled with guilt, if only for a moment. That didn't last long; Marvin never dealt with guilt very well.

"You shouldn't have run away." he retorted stubbornly.

Being confronted by Marvin as he held on to his denial of guilt, his refusal to even acknowledge they had done anything wrong brought me on the verge of crying. No matter what I did, no matter what I said, I could never win. They would always have the last word. I wanted to hold on to my anger, but I had underestimated how much energy and strength anger required. And I was so tired, tired of it all; the heartache, the pain, the fear. My emotions overshadowed my anger and I gave up, letting myself dissolving into tears before his eyes.

"No, no, no. Come on, kid; don't cry." said Marvin, as useless as ever.

He awkwardly patted my shoulder to no avail.

That was not what I wanted.

That was not what I _needed_.

What I craved was the reassurance only a parent could give; someone to comfort me and hold me close. Anyone could've figured that out! Anyone, but Marvin it would seem. Whether out of ignorance, clumsiness or shame, he had never held me in all the months I had spent at their side.

I'll admit Marvin was a poor substitute for my parents, but he was the closest thing I had. Taking the both of us by surprise, I threw my arms around his waist, and buried my face in his shirt, crying. His initial reaction was to stiffen against me, and I was afraid he might push me away, which only made me cry harder. But Marvin did not push me away. It was with some hesitation that I felt his arms close around me.

He let me cry without telling me to be quiet, without feeding me his usual lies about how "everything would be all right" or interrupting. He didn't even come up with some excuse to run away at the sight of my pain. For once, he just let me get it out. When my tears dried up, Marvin didn't bring up my back again. He didn't say much, most likely because he didn't know what to say. Avoiding the issue, he gave me a fresh glass of water, started the shower for me and helped me out of my shirt. He then got out of the bathroom as quickly as he could.

Definitely not parent material.

But he hadn't pushed me away.

I somehow managed to shower and get dressed by myself, and a good thing too as I found myself alone in the motel room upon leaving the bathroom. Marvin was nowhere in sight. Two coffee cups, a milk box I assumed was for me and a pastry box had been abandoned on the table, hinting at Harry's return while I was under the shower.

I could hear raised voices coming from outside our room. Although I couldn't make out the words, I recognised Harry's voice. Since there was only one person Harry could be arguing with, it solved the mystery of where Marvin had gone off to.

The topic of their argument wasn't that hard to guess and I wasn't happy about it. So what if Marvin was feeling bad, I didn't want him to make things worse by complaining about it to Harry! He might have taken pity on me, but I knew who Marvin would be siding with at our next showdown.

Their argument didn't last long. Harry was the first to walk back in the room, closely followed by Marvin. Luckily, they seemed to have worked out whatever issues they had to discuss outside, and although Harry's ears were still red, he wasn't fuming. I nevertheless absorbed myself in the lacing of my shoes, pretending I hadn't heard a thing. I have nailed pretending nothing's wrong to a fine art over the years. As for Harry, did a very good job at ignoring me.

I'll never know what Marvin told Harry, and I'll never ask, but Harry never took his belt out on me again. From then on, Marvin also avoided mentioning any of my misbehaviour to Harry if he could avoid it.

"Kid, breakfast." Harry barked my way.

There was nothing more to discuss. No with me anyway. I sat at the table and was handed the milk box, a muffin and a yogurt parfait. After how they had drugged me without so much as a warning, I was no longer willing to eat the first thing they put in front of me and inspected the food Harry had brought; the milk box was still sealed and I suppose they hardly could've slipped something in the muffins, but I switched it with another one from the box just to be safe. The most suspicious item had to be the parfait. Just like the sundae, I would've been easy for Harry drug it.

"Kid, stop playing with your food and eat." Harry chided me.

"Did you put something in it to make me sleep again?"

Marvin choked on his coffee at my question, but Harry merely chuckled.

"No. That stuff ain't cheap, or easy to come by; we're not wasting it unless we need you asleep again. Now eat, or don't, but we have a long road ahead and we're not stopping anytime soon, so make up your mind."

Harry had this way of expression himself, even when he said the meanest things, that made him sound truthful.

"Why did you need me to sleep?

– So we could be sure you'd be quiet when we needed you to be."

His answer had not been more elaborated than Marvin's. I wondered what they didn't want me to know. Still, I hesitate before the parfait. To Harry's amusement, Marvin took a spoonful of yogurt as proof of their good intentions.

"There, see? We didn't put anything in it."

After this act of good faith, I ate the parfait, but in small spoonful, trying to detect any aftertaste. Every time they would use that drug on me, it would be the same thing; I would be on high alert for weeks to follow, but as so much time elapsed between each event, they were always able to outwit me.

We finished having breakfast and didn't tarry at the motel. It was established that I would be riding in the car with Marvin and that Harry would follow us. I was pleased by this new arrangement until I saw him take out the handcuffs again. I didn't think he would insist on those.

"Do you really have to?"

Harry had come over to the car, probably to make sure I wouldn't sweet talk my way out of this.

"Marv, we're almost in the clear. Don't mess it up!"

I could see how torn Marvin was, but this was one instance where he chose to listen to his partner instead of his conscience.

"It's just for today." he promised me, slipping the handcuffs on my wrists.

"How long till we get there?

– Sometime this evening."

So they had not been lying when they said they would take me far away. I had never taken such a long trip before. We were definitely a long way from Chicago.

"Where are we going?"

I did not expect an answer anymore, but was there any point in keeping me in the dark about our destination? I saw Marvin hesitate, but he did not ignore my question.

"We're going to a small town Harry found. You've never heard of it.

– Where is it?

– Don't worry about that."

Not worry about it? That's what Marvin kept saying, but with nothing for me to do but look out the window, how could I think about anything else? As we kept driving, we no longer crossed cities, but a series of villages and smaller towns. Marvin had not been wrong; the names of these places did not mean anything to me but as I looked out the window, I couldn't help but feel something was… off. It was more than the unknown names, there was something missing, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. It felt like something important, though, and it kept nagging at me.

It was some time in the afternoon when I finally realized what felt so different. We were driving in front of a series of houses, nothing special about them, when I saw this nice one. It wasn't grand or looked particularly rich or anything, but it had some beautiful flowerbeds and old oak trees all over. I could tell the owners took great pride in their property, it was inviting and maintained with care. There were iron benches in the shade under the trees, bird feeders and baths. I remember that house so well because there was a flag hanging from the front porch. It wasn't the national flag, but a decorative flag with colourful birds on it. Looking at that flag, is what made me realized I hadn't seen the national flag anywhere; it wasn't on display in front of any of the houses, stores, streets or even schools! Most of the flags I saw were advertising some farmers' market or calling back to the foundation of the town.

But no American flag anywhere.

In what unpatriotic corner of the country had Harry and Marvin taken me? We were stopped at a red light when I finally came across what looked like a real flag flying over the town's city hall. I stared at it, perplexed. I could not identify all the fifty states flags yet, but I was fairly certain the only one displaying the union jack was the state of Hawaii. And I might've had no clue where we were, but one thing was for sure, we were nowhere near Hawaii!

"Marv, what state is that?

– What?

– That flag! What state is that?"

Marvin barely looked at it.

"That's not a state flag." he said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

I watched his fingers and noted how Marvin wouldn't meet my eyes in the rear view mirror. I had a bad feeling.

"Marv, in what state are we?"

The light turned green and we left the town hall and its flag behind.

"We're a long way from Illinois, kid."

Since our departure, it was the first time I sensed that Marvin was less than thrilled by our destination.

"So _where_ are we?

– We're in Canada, kid." he answered abruptly. "Get used to it."

That was the first time Harry and Marvin took me out of the country. It would be hard to put in words the level of emotional distress that news caused me. When they had told me they were taking me far away, I had imagined somewhere out on the west coast, maybe in California or Washington, but always in the country! Canada might not seem so distant on a map, but it wasn't a simple matter of distance, there was a finality in this decision. By this single action, they had successfully ensured I would lose all bearings. They might've well taken me to the other side of the world! I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it.

"Canada? You mean _Canada_ , Canada?" I asked, my voice getting higher by the second.

In the mirror, I saw Marvin wince, but he didn't answer. I think he had hoped Harry would be the one to break the news to me.

"I didn't see the border! When did we cross the border?

– Late last night."

 _After they had drugged me_. Marvin didn't need to say it. That's what they had been hiding from me. I was a little young to understand all the reasoning behind their action, but I have to give them credit, they did think this through. That's why we had left so late, so we could cross the border in the middle of the night, when there wouldn't have been anything strange about a child fast asleep on the back seat.

"But we're not staying; we're just passing through, right?" I insisted, talking faster and faster while tugging on the handcuffs.

"Calm down, kid; you're going to hurt yourself. We're making a fresh start, remember? This place is a good as any.

– No it's not! Why can't we make a fresh start in another state?

– Listen, kid; it was either Canada or Mexico. But since we don't speak Mexican, we picked Canada."

I didn't know what to say anymore. I didn't want to go to Mexico any more than to Canada. On that day, the word "home" took a much broader definition. I so wanted to go back home.

"That's dumb" I said angrily, kicking the back of Marvin's seat in frustration.

"Hey! You want me to pull over so you can ride with Harry? That way, you can argue with him over this?"

I glared at him, but didn't answer.

"Just relax, and get over it, kid. You won't see the difference, anyway."

I went back to looking out the window, trying to ignore this latest change in my life. Bitterly, I had to admit Harry had been right.

No one would ever look for me here.

 _AN: Just to clarify, I DO know that Mexicans speak Spanish, and NOT "Mexican". I just thought it would be something Marvin would say._


	16. Chapter 15

_Hello everyone!_

 _I am very happy to upload this latest chapter. As mentioned in my previous entry, I have been working on side scenes from the McCallisters's points of view, and you may find the three first scenes on this site in another story entitled "Broken Home". I have uploaded them under a different story as they would've clashed in this one. Those won't form a complete story, just scenes here and there from various characters' point of view that will sometime intertwine with Kevin's main story. If you're interested in finding out how the McCallisters are coping, check it out and enjoy!_

 _But now, on with our main story!_

Chapter 15

My first few years with Harry and Marvin were the hardest, and not just on me. The three of us had to adapt to our new and often uncomfortable situation. I had lost a lot, starting with my family and freedom, but in a way, so did they.

I was one heck of a responsibility for two bachelors who, up until that point, knew and cared very little about children. Many aspects of their lives were never the same, starting with their social life; it took quite a dive after that Christmas of 1990. Because I spend so much time with Harry and Marvin, I usually think of them as two halves of the same coin. In reality, they had a great number of friends they had to shut out of their lives because my presence would've raised too many questions. They could no longer stay out all night, go to bars, or pick up women at random. As for their yearly trip to Las Vegas with the boys, they had to kiss it goodbye. I was always at back of their minds, and in a way became the center of their world. Marvin would complain about it sometimes, claiming people must think they were some kind of old married couple.

The changes I brought with me extended well beyond their social circle; I'm not exaggerating when I say that their lives were turned upside down by my abduction. Something as simple as dinner became much more complicated. Harry took care of most of the cooking, but that had never been a steady thing until I came along. They used to go out, night or day, not necessarily together, and have a bite whenever they felt like it. I however required full meals every day, which meant they had to come back home, run errands, and make sure the refrigerator was never empty. Harry and Marvin weren't exactly cut out for domestic life, which led to a number of arguments between the two of them.

They tried their best, comprised and sacrificed a lot along the way. I'll never be _grateful_ for what they did, but I will acknowledge that they gave me a somewhat normal life. I always had clean clothes that fit. Sometimes they were even fashionable! They fed me, and took care of me when I was sick. They let me watch television, and listen to the radio. I could go to bed whenever I wanted to, and sleep-in as long as I liked.

Over the years, I have heard of other kidnapping stories that sounded straight out of a horror movie; I am well aware that most victims were not half as "lucky" as I was, though I hate to use that term. Harry and Marvin could've kept me in a box underground, starved me, chained to a wall and let me wallow in my own filth, but they were never that evil. Even Harry's beatings, as shocking as they were, were mild compared to the daily torture some victims endured. As much as I hate to defend his actions, I will say that Harry never beat me for the fun of it; he wasn't some kind of sadist always looking for a reason to give me a thrashing. He corrected me when he felt he had to, but Harry never revelled in my punishment.

Whenever we caught some of those reports, or watched true-crime shows, I don't think Harry and Marvin ever recognized themselves in the bad guys or kidnappers depicted on screen. In their own words, they were _not_ monsters; they were just two guys who didn't want to go to jail. In the process, I don't think they realized that my kidnapping would condemn them to a prison of another sort. They had been friends and partners for years, but now they were stuck with each other whether they liked it or not. There would be no question of going their separate ways, or moving out in case one of them ever got a girlfriend.

They were in this together for the long run.

Our move to Canada had been a clear step in that direction. It marked another chapter in my life with them. Marvin had told me we would make a fresh start and learn to "be a family". As repulsive as this idea sounded, I didn't really know how else to qualify our relationship. Moving to another country cut ties we had to our previous lives. In this new place, we only had each other.

As two of Harry's three brothers were already aware of the situation, I wouldn't say he lost his family. Not entirely. His brothers covered for him, offering excuses for his absence to his parents. Considering the brood he had raised, I think his father might've suspected something was wrong. Kidnapping probably never crossed his mind, but he knew Harry had got himself in trouble and that staying away for a while was for the best.

Things weren't so simple for Marvin. He used to be able to leave on the spur of the moment to see his mother and sister. Now, the best he could do was to call them once in a while. His absence, his mother would never fail to remind Marvin, was a burden on her. I came to understand that his sister, Karen, was a handful that did not make the wisest of decisions.

A grown woman mother of two, Karen always needed money for some reason or another, and had a bad habit of falling for the wrong guys. Whenever her latest beau would dump her, as they all did, Karen would fall in deep depressions, leaving her mother to contend with the children. Up until my abduction, Marvin had been there to land a hand. He was the only one who could reason with Karen, and to whom she would listen to. Neither his sister nor his mother could understand why he had suddenly deserted them, and Marvin couldn't very well tell them the truth. Their constant complaints and reproaches got on Marvin's nerves, leading him to call less and less often. As a result, a rift that did not heal over time was driven between Marvin and his family. So in a way, he did lose his family in all this. I'm not sure, but I think that may be the reason why Marvin tried so hard for our little "family" to work out. That way, he wouldn't have lost everything.

These reflections always lead me to question how I feel about Harry and Marvin. I remember so many details of my life with them, sadly much more than the now vague and faded memories of my family, making this all the more difficult to answer.

For all my anger and resentment, I do not wish them dead, or at least most of the time I don't. I wouldn't want them to go to jail either, although I know that's where they belong. I can't imagine never seeing Harry and Marvin again, and should the police ever arrest them, I think our separation would be just as distressing as the first days of my kidnapping were.

I no longer dream of being reunited with my family. As I grow older, I realize more and more that, should I ever see them again, I wouldn't know how to fit in their world anymore. My siblings all went, or are still attending college; Buzz and Megan have jobs, Buzz is engaged, Megan's got a kid... That reality, the reality I know I should've been a part of, feels almost alien to me. Life took us on different paths that simply do not cross. I would love to see my mom and dad, or let them know I'm fine, but I don't… well, I don't _need_ them anymore.

I try to avoid thinking about it; such thoughts usually confuse and frustrate me because I don't know where it leaves me in regards to Harry and Marvin. I know how I _should_ feel, anger, hatred, loathing, fear, and yet most of the time, I don't. Truth is, to hate someone you've lived so close to for so long, and are so dependent on, is difficult. You can't hate all the time, or I least, I couldn't. I suppose that's why they say kids are resilient, they pull through. I know I did. And the thing is it wasn't abject terror all the time. There were some pretty awesome moments, and plenty of fun ones too. Feelings get confused.

My relationship with Marvin has always been more "friendly", for lack of a better word, but no less hard to define. Most of the time, our interactions are so normal I'll forget I'm his prisoner. I cannot deny I have affection for him. Marvin was, after all, the one I could play with. Life seems like such a big joke to Marvin it's hard not to laugh with him. He might've been my father on paper, but our relation feels more akin to that of an older brother. Marvin loved playing video games almost as much as I did. He'd tell me stories to entertain, amuse, spook, or annoy me. If I needed something, Marvin would try and get it for me. He's the one who told me all about girls in perhaps too graphic details for my age, and he liked to embarrass me by giving me dirty magazines. Until I got my first girl, that is. Marvin wasn't laughing when he found out about her.

As for Harry… If my relation with Marvin is hard to define, the one I have with Harry is still unclear to this day. As a child, I would usually find him watching me all the time. He rarely missed a thing. For the longest time, his mere presence in the house was enough to make me jumpy. I did not play with Harry. Marvin could tease, biker and joke with his partner, but not me. I have now grown at ease with him, and may speak my mind openly, but for the longest time there was this very definite line between the two of us I could never cross.

I think that Harry, more than Marvin, saw from the moment they decided to keep me that I would not be a child forever. I would grow up, and he needed to establish himself as the head of our "family", so in a way, he was a sort of father figure. Not the kind of father my real dad was; Harry wasn't warm, generous, understanding or forgiving, but there was and is an undeniable strength about him, a driving force that ensured our "family" was kept safe from harm and intruders. He promised to never abandon me, and he never did.

Whenever important decisions needed to be made, Harry would be the one to make them. He decided when we'd move, and where we would go. I'm sure Marvin had his say in it, but most of the time he seemed content to follow and trust Harry with the details.

I might've played with Marvin, but I learned from Harry.

Most of the things I know now, I owe to Harry. Through his teaching, he has earned my respect and a bond of a sort has developed between the two of us. I trust him implicitly. I might also be imagining things, but I think Harry secretly enjoyed having someone to pass on his knowledge. He was a strict teacher, but there is no doubt I learned from the best. I am both proud, and ashamed of the skills I have acquired at his side.

As I said, feelings get confused.

Very confused.

Life in Canada was different. And by that, I don't mean the weather, the landscape, people or politics. On the whole, I saw very little of the country once we finally reached our destination. It was life with Harry and Marvin that was different. It didn't feel so different at first, but looking back, I can see how the three of us slowly settled into our new reality, testing what worked, and what didn't, getting to know each other.

I did not care to be in Canada, but I quickly saw how much more relaxed Harry and Marvin were now that they didn't catch my parents giving interviews over the evening news. In this little northeastern town of Ontario, my kidnapping might've been mentioned as a side note over the holidays, but reporters were now busy chasing other stories closer to home. This came as a relief to my captors and by extension made my life easier, especially when it came to Harry. He did not yell as much, was less prone to snap, and was more talkative. With Marvin that is, not with me; the two of us stood on shaky grounds since he had corrected me.

I don't remember the outside of the house very well. It would be the first of a series of bungalows we would later inhabit. The house felt as secluded as the one in Chicago had been, although this time I had seen a number of houses along the road we travelled to get there. It was surrounded by deep dark woods and there were no fields or farmlands around. There wasn't anything special or memorable about the house itself. I remember there being a carport between the house and garage, and old pine trees that would sway menacingly in the wind. I didn't pay attention to the trees or even the house when we first arrived. My eyes had been drawn to what lay behind the house: a lake.

That lake brought back memories.

Every summer, my parents would rent a cottage with a front lake view for a couple of weeks. They'd invite the entire clan to join us, and so the place would always be packed. My dad would take us fishing, my Uncle Frank would sleep in a hammock in the shade, or would play pétanque with my Uncle Rob. My siblings and cousins would go canoeing, picking berries, or exploring the island that sat in the middle of the lake, while my mom, my grandmother Penelope, and my aunts would sunbathe, read, drink cocktails, and gossip. Buzz practiced shooting his pellet gun with Rod, and Jeff chased birds or other wild animals with his camera. I would spend the best part of those weeks in the lake. I loved swimming, and would swim every day, even if it rained! I practiced my cannonballs running off the wharf, splashing with delight everything and everyone around me. At the cottage, I was never reprimanded for running around, being loud, or rowdy.

"See, I told you'd like our new place." said Marvin, noting my interest in the lake.

He uncuffed me and grabbed a bag while as I cautiously stepped out of the car, keeping an eye on the lake.

"Can we go down to the lake?"

I didn't care how late it was, or how badly my back hurt, I could not wait to see how big and how deep it was.

"Nah ha, you stay away from the lake." ordered Marvin, looking worried.

I didn't understand what made him so nervous until Harry enlightened me by his next words:

"Marv's right, I don't need to keep an eye on another idiot who can't swim!"

I was surprised to learn that Marvin didn't know how to swim. I assumed all adults knew how, and looked at him in curiosity. Marvin didn't blush at Harry's statement.

"I'm not an idiot. I was raised in the city, why would I learn how to swim?

– Yet you love flooding houses. Think there's a link there?

– No." answered Marvin with a smile. "It was either that or burning them. I figured that flooding houses would be more discreet. And less dangerous.

– Burning houses? Are you crazy!

– I'm kidding, I'm kidding! You know I'd never do that!

– You'd better not!"

I didn't listen to their exchange. There was no way I could live so close to a lake and have it being off-limit. Trying to get Marvin's attention, I insisted:

"I know how to swim.

– This is a lake, not a kiddie pool." Harry replied for Marvin as we walked over to the house.

"I can swim in a lake too.

– Lakes are dangerous, we don't even have armbands for you."

Marvin usually knew how to talk to me, but his lack of knowledge about children sometimes showed, as it did in this instance:

"I'm not a baby!" I snapped back. "I don't need armbands."

I never had any use for armbands. My mom had enrolled me in swimming lessons when I was a toddler, but I didn't really need them. Swimming was one of those things that came naturally to me, and I skipped the arm bands. My aunt Leslie would insist Fuller and Brooke wore theirs whenever they stepped a toe in the water, but I always refused. For once, my mother supported me; I swam almost as well as she did, and we used to swim together all the way to the island and come back every morning.

I didn't feel like explaining all this to Harry or Marvin, and I doubt they would've listened. They were tired, and were in no mood to humour me. Harry settled the matter as he usually did.

"Either way, kid; we're not going to the lake tonight. It's getting dark and we have other things to do.

– Don't you wanna see what our new house looks like?" Marvin suggested, trying to get my mind off the lake.

I was in no hurry to discover the inside of a place I knew I would seldom leave, but I didn't have much say in this matter. I braced myself and entered the house we would inhabit for a little less than a year.

The house was not new, but it had been renovated. The back of the house was almost entirely made of windows and counted no less than two patio doors. Natural light flown into the kitchen, and the living room had a great view of the lake. When all those windows were opened, a breeze swept through the house, keeping us cool even in the warmest days of summer. When it came to my "quarters", Marvin had not lied; the house did not have a storage room.

It had a basement.

It actually wasn't that bad. Unlike most basements I was accustomed to, there was nothing scary or dark about this one. It had high floating ceiling tiles, was brightly lit, and had been finished with wooden panel walls and soft carpet. This was not the kind of basement that was used for storage, or as a workshop. The main room was a second living room and even had a natural gas fireplace! The basement was complete with a large bedroom, and a bathroom also serving as a laundry room. Needless to say the basement became more or less my playground.

It was also where Harry and Marvin would lock me up whenever they had to leave the house. True to their promise of a new start, they tried to make life as bearable for me as possible. They furnished the basement to fit my needs; I had a worn, but comfortable couch, table and chairs, plenty of space to move, an indoor swing and a basketball hoop. The ball wouldn't bounce on the carpet, but I learned to throw from every angle in the room. Harry and Marvin also provided me with my own cable television, V.C.R., and radio. I always had a pile of books to read, although most of them were not age appropriate. I sometimes got bored enough to pick one up, but it wasn't easy for an eight-year-old to be sucked in a 250 pages book with no pictures. I had never been interested in books to begin with, so I left them untouched most of the time. I had plenty of cards, and tried almost all the patience games out there. I had dices, dominoes, plain and construction paper, all the crayons, coloured pencils, wax crayons and markers I wanted. Marvin got me some play dough, a yo-yo, a desktop ping-pong set that nearly drove Harry insane, and an etch a sketch. Harry had a preference for puzzles, I suspect because those were quiet games. He got me all kinds of puzzles, including an old Rubik' cube I became really good at, and other mind twisters. He also got me a map of the world to study.

Harry and Marvin didn't shower me with gifts and toys the moment we arrived. They acquired those over months, usually from garage sales or thrift stores around town. They were still cautious over what they bought, but they did take a little more risks with their purchases now that we were in Canada.

It also took them a while before they left me alone in the house. We had a lot of unpacking to do, and they had a business to set up. Although they had money on the side, Harry went into town the very next day to meet with the business developer about their trade licenses.

It was the first time Harry used the licenses Charlie got for them, and Marvin feared they might get caught. I didn't say it out loud, but kept my fingers crossed that something would be wrong with their paperwork, though I wasn't sure how seriously a fake license would be taken. In any case, Charlie proved as reliable as ever and Harry returned hours later with a smile and fresh groceries. Picking-up on his partner's good mood, Marvin finally relaxed.

"I take it everything went fine?

– More than fine, the developer was practically purring with delight when I told her we were licensed in plumbing and heating. I looked up the competition and the closest company is over an hour away.

– So Charlie's licenses worked out?

– Like a charm. The woman took one look at the Red Seal on our trade certificates, and unrolled the red carpet.

– Didn't think we'd ever had to use that one, but that's a relief.

– We'll have to set up the phone, and run some advertisement in the local papers, and maybe the local radio.

– We could print flyers, and give the word to local hardware and grocery stores."

And that's how it would be every time we'd move. Charlie's paperwork and licenses were never questioned as far as I know. It was hard work for Harry and Marvin to re-establish their clientele, but I soon learned that men in their trade never ran out of work.

I had stayed quiet, watching them as they congratulated each other over their good luck and cleverness. I didn't want my disappointment at everything running so smoothly for them to be too apparent.

"And how about the kid, did he behave?"

I was standing right there, but ignoring me was Harry's new policy. It was probably better than trying to pretend that everything was fine and dandy between us.

"He sure did. We're almost done with the kitchen, right kid?" replied Marvin with forced enthusiasm.

While Harry was in town, Marvin had enrolled my help in setting up the kitchen. We had reassembled the table and were now unpacking. Because of my back, I was in charge of wiping the kitchenware clean of any dust before handing them over to Marvin who would put everything away in the kitchen cabinets. It was boring work. I was in a dangerous state of tiredness over our trip, mixed with an excess of penned up energy that made me feel grumpy.

"Can we go down to the lake after this box? Please?"

Although I had clearly been addressing myself to Marvin, Harry's the one who answered:

"By the way, his boots were worn-out, so I threw them away."

I had to agree, my winter shoes were not adequate for the season; they were too warm, heavy, dirty, and had started to feel too tight to be comfortable. They were however the only pair of shoes I had.

"You threw my shoes away?" I asked, but was ignored by Harry.

I did not mean to sound upset. Granted they were just shoes, but they were _my_ shoes. My initial thought was that this had to be further punishment for my running away.

"Really Harry? You had to throw them away today? We just got here!" Marvin objected.

I was glad to hear Marvin had played no part in this latest trick from Harry, but that did not change the fact I no longer had shoes.

"You're the one who said they were getting too small, Marv."

– Yes, so we could buy him new ones."

Harry shook his head in amusement.

"It's as if you didn't know me at all. I did get him new shoes. They're in the bag in the hall."

I looked to Marvin, and he waved me off so I could go retrieve the bag. As I walked by him, I overheard Harry chuckle:

"What? You thought I'd want to be stuck with the kid inside the house all the time? We'd end up strangling him before the end of the week."

I was so relieved to find out I would not be confined to the house I was willing to overlook Harry's comment and spilled the content of the bag to the floor. Harry had got me not one, but two pairs of shoes; a pair of sneakers, and a pair of sport sandals. He would usually get most of my clothes from thrift stores, except when it came to shoes. Harry always bought me new ones. I did not have much say in the colour or design, but he stuck to the classics, so it was never an issue. The sneakers were charcoal and blue, while the sandals were black and orange. Those were pretty cool, but for all the fuss I made over the shoes, what I mostly remember was the third item Harry had conveniently forgot to mention.

At the bottom of the bag, I found a blue swim trunk.


	17. Chapter 16

_Hello!_

 _Sorry for the delay, I am very pleased to share this new chapter with you._

 _Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 16

Routine was at the heart of my new life. It was boring, but reassuring at the same time. Every day I had come to expect Harry to wake me up in the morning. I would shower, get dressed, and meet him for breakfast upstairs. Marvin joined us later. They would work on their business plan, do chores, and run errands. I avoided getting in their way. Harry cooked, Marvin mowed the lawn, I did the dishes and took care of some laundry. In the evening, we would watch movies, the news, or sports. Marvin was always last to go to bed, and would be the one to lock me up in the basement for the night. A simple routine. Not that different from the one I followed in Chicago.

I came to have a little more freedom. Not at first, I still had to ask permission for the smallest thing, and they rarely let me out of their sight, but I could make my own breakfast, never had to make my bed, and Harry even stopped complaining about me sleeping with the lights on. It was after all _his_ fault I couldn't sleep in the dark.

Every day, I was allowed outside for a few hours. I had never been the most outdoorsy child, but leaving the house became a must, and by far my favorite part of the day. It was like Harry had said, I would've driven them both insane had I been stuck inside all the time. I needed to run, jump, and spend my energy.

I mostly stayed in the backyard, but they would sometimes let me play in the rowboat off the wharf. I fed stale bread to birds, collected rocks for my slingshot, and would even climb trees, though that made them very nervous. They could not risk me getting hurt.

As much as I enjoyed my time outside, I soon discovered a new enemy conspiring to keep me prisoner of the house: mosquitoes. I don't know what it was, the beginning of the warm season, our proximity to the lake, the beds of pine needles around the house, or all of the above, but _they were everywhere_! And they were all after me! I was stubborn and wouldn't let that stop me from spending as much time as possible outside. As a result, I got so many mosquito bites Harry had to threaten to handcuff me with mittens to keep me from scratching myself raw.

Marvin could not stand the insects either; he would take refuge inside the house and refused to step down the deck. The only one immune to the insects was Harry. It's almost as if they just knew not to mess with him. It also meant that for the first months or so following our arrival, if I wanted to go outside, Harry and not Marvin would be the one taking me.

Going outside with Harry wasn't fun; he made me feel like a dog out for his daily walk. Marvin had given me my slingshot back, but Harry didn't like me to carry it around when it was just the two of us. I won't lie by pretending the idea to pellet him with rocks didn't cross my mind. Harry probably guessed as much, and was all the more careful when I handled the small weapon. On the plus side, Harry did not make me hold his hand whenever we left the house. When I asked him about it, he explained very matter-a-factly:

"I don't need to hold your hand. This isn't Illinois; we're in bear country. You won't go far."

I suspected Harry was only trying to scare me, but the statue of a bear at the entrance of town did give his story enough credibility to keep me by his side.

I was both frightened and thrilled at the prospect of encountering a real live bear, but as the days went by and we didn't see anything, I started to doubt Harry's words. Carefully watching him, I noted that, for all of his warning, he didn't seem concerned about the menace the bears represented.

"If there are bears around, how come you're not scared?"

I thought I was so smart and had caught Harry in a lie until he answered:

"Cause I'm not walking around armed with nothing more than a slingshot."

I knew Harry meant his gun, and it made me change the subject. I was still nervous knowing he carried it with him. It was only later that I realized my conflicting position on firearms; on the one hand, I feared Harry's gun, but on the other, I was also under the protection of said gun. Or at least I assumed I was. There were some questions I did not ask Harry.

To my regret, we never encountered a bear. We saw plenty of deer; birds Harry told me were partridges, a couple of foxes, and racoons, but no bears. Harry, like Marvin, wasn't the outdoor type. Unlike Marvin however, Harry had a general knowledge of the forest; he could spot poison ivy, identify the calls of some birds, and orient himself outside of trails without getting lost. None of this meant Harry enjoyed the outdoors. He didn't see the appeal of the lake, would not care to listen to the loons at dusk, or admire the mist rise from the mountains in the mornings. The one and only reason Harry spent so much time outside was because I needed to, as he would often remind me. I chose to ignore his snide comments.

With Harry, I explored hiking trails, nearby sand pits where quad bikes raced over the weekends, and swamps where I would chase frogs. He got me a small fishing rod, and showed me how to capture worms at night so I could try my luck off our wharf. As Marvin did not know how to swim, Harry was the one who kept an eye on me whenever I was in the lake, which was not as often as I would've liked. Although the weather was fair, the days weren't as warm as they had been back in Chicago. I was determined to enjoy the lake, and would insist on trying the water every few days. Harry didn't stop me. I suppose he knew I wouldn't go far.

A simple routine.

One we were all still struggling to adapt ourselves to.

A simple routine that was disrupted less than a month after our arrival. That day Marvin had gone to town to pick up their publicity flyers fresh off the print while I tested the lake once again under Harry's watchful eyes.

"Give it up, kid. The water's around 67 degrees, it's too cold.

– I'm fine!" I replied, trying to control my shivering. "I'll get used to it in a minute.

– That's what you said five minutes ago."

I did not want to admit Harry was right, and swam around some more. Being in the water was a nice break from the mosquitoes. Even if the water was a bit cold…

"Kid, your lips are turning blue. Out!"

By that point, I could not deny the icy water was draining my energy, and decided it would be wiser to return to shore.

"Do you see any other schnook swimming in the lake?

– Don't call me that." I replied, wrapping myself in a towel.

"Stop acting like one, and I won't."

There were other houses around the lake, and though I had observed a couple of anglers early in the morning, or late in the evening, I hadn't seen anyone swim in the lake.

"It's summer, how come the water's so cold?" I complained in frustration.

– It's a lake, not a pool. It takes longer to warm up. Now if you're done, put on your sweater before you catch a cold, and let's go back to the house. It's getting late."

Just as we reached the house, Marvin stepped on the deck waving one of their flyers.

"Check it out, Harry. Looks like we're in business!

– Did you double-check the phone number? Remember that typo two years ago? Let's not repeat that fiasco.

– Looks fine!"

I sat in the stairs, refusing to take interest in their flyers. I wasn't so eager for Harry and Marvin's business to take off. I knew they needed to work to bring in money and all that, but I would then be left alone for hours, something I was not looking forward to. Deep down, I still held on to the hope that we might return to Illinois if they couldn't find work.

My back turned to the both of them, I willed myself not to think too much about the future, and all those hours of solitude. Besides those mysterious days leading to Christmas, I had never been alone; there had always been other kids around to keep me company, my siblings, my friends, or classmates. I missed having a playmate. I was brooding over my new reality, when I spotted something that got my mind off my worries; a dog had appeared in our backyard! Next thing I knew, a panting golden retriever had climbed the stairs of the porch to meet me, its tail wagging happily.

"Hey! Where did you come from?"

I love dogs. Always have. I had been raised in a household where they were treated as family. I hadn't been in contact with an animal since my dad had taken our dog Chester to the kennel on the day before… well before all this mess started.

I offered my hand to the dog for him to smell, when I heard Marvin shout my name. Before I could turn around and see what he wanted, Harry had yanked me to my feet, kicking the dog away, cursing loudly. The dog narrowly avoided Harry's foot, and ran back down the stairs, whining.

"Don't hurt the dog!" I cried, but I don't think Harry heard me.

"Don't ever go near a stray dog, you hear! It could-"

I never knew what the dog could've done; to Harry and Marvin's dismay, a woman had just stepped into our backyard, the golden retriever at her side. The idea to scream for help did not even cross my mind; I was as stunned by her apparition as Harry and Marvin were. Harry's grip on my arm tightened to the point of being painful, and served as a good reminder to stay quiet. It proved unnecessary; after all these months spent exclusively around my captors, I had become wary of strangers.

My call for help would've been lost on that woman anyway. As it turned out she didn't speak English. As she strolled toward us, babbling away, I could not understand a single word she said, and stood there, looking at her with wide eyes.

Adding to the general feeling of confusing was her dog, bouncing back and forth between the three of us and its owner. Surprisingly, it was Marvin who shook himself out of his stupor first. He walked over to the woman, offering her his most dazzling smile, and addressing her in a language I assumed she understood.

Harry made sure to stand between the woman and me at all times, keeping an eye on her dog. I don't think he was used to dogs; he would shoo it away every time it came too close, but didn't try to kick it again.

It was the first time a stranger had come this close to me, and I feared Harry's reaction, even though I hadn't done anything wrong. At some point, Marvin introduced Harry and me, and I froze upon hearing him mention my name. The woman smiled at Harry, and cried something when she saw me. Mixed in all her gibberish, one word did stand out: cute. This one word, added to her tone and body language led me to understand she found me cute.

The last person to have said so was Sid. I did not like this association, and hid behind Harry. It's crazy the details that stay with you as a child. Thanks to Sid, I have developed an aversion to the word "cute". I distrust compliments based in my looks, and do not respond well to them. It took Harry and Marvin years to figure that one out, as neither of them commented on my appearance, and never said anything about me being "cute".

I remembered all too well how "bad people" bought children they found cute, more specifically little boys with blond hair and blue eyes. I wasn't sure if that woman was one of those "bad people", and I wasn't interested in finding out. I wanted her to leave. Unaware of my suspicions, the woman continued her discussion with Marvin.

I didn't know it back then, but Marvin probably first tested the story he and Harry had come up with to explain our family situation on that woman.

He wrote himself a nice tragedy.

It went somewhere along the following lines: Marvin was a widower and single father. He had lost his wife, my mother, to cancer. Nobody ever asks any questions when Marvin brings up cancer; it was a brilliant strategy on his part.

With no family to turn to when his "beloved" wife fell sick, Marvin had relied on his long-time friend and business partner, Harry. As only a true friend would, Harry had moved in with us to take care of me and the house while Marvin focused on giving his wife the attention she needed.

Heroes. Both of them.

After a long battle, my fictional mother had passed away, leaving poor Marvin a heartbroken widower. That's when Harry and Marvin had agreed to move and make a fresh start to help _me_ cope with my mother's passing.

I was thankfully never asked to rehearse that story myself. Watching Marvin telling it is quite the show; the emotions he gets into it, getting all choked-up at just the right moment, it's a real tearjerker. He gained a lot of sympathy with that story, mostly from women. They're real suckers for that stuff, and they fall for his bullshit every time. Makes me wonder why Marvin didn't try his skills at theater.

The woman in our backyard wasn't any different from all the other ones Marvin would meet over the years. I noticed the pity shining in her eyes every time she would look at me, and the admiration she had for Marvin. Just before she left, the woman shook Marvin's hand, _giggling_. I, for my part, was disgusted.

"Who the hell was that, and what did she want?" barked Harry as soon as she was out of earshot.

– Calm down, Harry; that was our new neighbor, Mylène Blanchard." Marvin replied as Harry pushed me toward the house.

It took me a while to process the sound of that name. I could never pronounce it right, no matter how often Marvin corrected me. I eventually settled on calling her "Blanche".

"She was walking her dog when she saw our van with the plumbing design on the side." explained Marvin. "Her shower has been giving her some problem, and no decent plumber is available for the next two weeks. I said we'd be happy to go take a look later this evening.

– And you… understood all that?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Uh hum." Marvin sounded quite proud of himself.

It wasn't every day he got to show off his superior knowledge of anything in front of Harry.

"Are you sure that's what she said?" insisted Harry.

"Yes I'm sure! She is _so_ happy to have found a plumber in the area who speaks French, as her English is simply awful, apparently. She's going to let _all_ her friends know."

I did not appreciate it at first, but after all this time, and after missing my trip to Paris, I still got to hear what French sounded like first hand. I wondered if Linnie or my cousins would've been able to understand what the woman had said. If Marvin had learned, how difficult could it really be?

"Oh, great. Can we expect her friends to come knocking on our door at all hours?" groaned Harry.

"Hey, if Ms. Blanchard is to be believed, we'll have the monopoly of the area, simply because we speak French, which means a steady income. That's always good news!

– Marv, I _don't_ speak French." Harry reminded him through gritted teeth. "and I don't think that woman's friends account for that many people.

– You speak Italian, that's close enough! Besides, didn't you research this place when you applied for our work visa? She said something about half the town speaking French.

– _Half_ the town? I thought we were in Canada, not France!"

Marvin didn't pay attention to Harry's sarcasm. He flipped through the phone book, and chewed on his lips before announcing:

"Harry, about our flyers, we're going to have to reprint them."

Now he had Harry's attention.

"What's wrong with them? You said there were no typos!

– There aren't any, but we'll need to run those in French as well.

– You're kidding, right?

– She said half the town, Harry. And his is a _small_ town. We can't afford to ignore that many potential clients.

– They live here, don't they? I'm sure they understand English."

Shoving the phone book in Harry's hands, Marvin pointed out the other plumbing services listed in there:

"Look at our competitors' surnames: Therriault, Beliveau, Lacroix; all French. Our clients might be more inclined to call _them_ , even if they are an hour away, rather than two freshly arrived _Americans_. You know how small towns are, they'll run our business into the ground if they have any reasons to dislike us."

Harry cursed some more, and I stopped listening. I did not care about the details of their business. I was much more worried about what the appearance of that woman would mean for my daily time outside. True I hadn't said a word, but that did not mean Harry and Marvin were ready to take me out in the world yet. They had never expected anyone to walk in our backyard without any warning, or invitation. I was afraid it might spell disaster for me. The last thing I wanted was to find myself locked in the basement all the time. It was not the storage room, but still…

On that day, I had had the best reaction Harry and Marvin could've hoped for. I had not moved, screamed, or tried to escape. That encounter could've gone very differently, and we all knew it.

I found myself in a strange mindset. I didn't know what I was hoping for anymore. I was far from everything I knew, I didn't know who to trust, and I was still reeling from the punishment I had received the last time I had tried to escape. After Harry's conversation on the matter, I wasn't even sure going home was an option anymore. Most of all, I didn't want to confront the angry versions of Harry and Marvin again. This, what we had right now, was better. As long as I played nice and behaved, I would be able to retain a minimum of comfort and privilege. I wanted to feel safe. Maintaining the status quo made me feel safe.

It is hard to put my reasoning in words, even after all this time. It's like I never thought anything, except pain and misery, would ever come out of my escape attempts. I didn't see or believed anyone would be willing to help me. I never exactly gave up. I gave up on strangers, but never on myself. I had learned that strangers were scary, and potentially more dangerous than Harry and Marvin.

Better the devil you know.

Harry and Marvin did not praise my behaviour that day. They didn't say anything. I could however tell they were pleased by the fact that Marvin gave me cookies before dinner, and did not earn himself the usual scowl from Harry.

The only indication I got that he was still replaying that scene in his mind was how Harry kept looking at me during dinner, making me nervous. In the end, all he said was:

"His blond is starting to show. See to it, Marv."

A few hours earlier, I might've been upset over this new hair dye session, but after being reminded of the existence of those "bad people", the timing of Harry's suggestion was impeccable. When Marvin sat me down to cover my roots a few days later, I don't think he expected to find me so cooperative. He had no idea our neighbor was to thank for my attitude.

Harry and Marvin had more than one reason to be grateful to that woman; she became their first client. As promised by Marvin, they went over to her house that very evening, shortly after dinner. I wasn't too happy at being locked up in the basement, but it was already late, and I knew they wouldn't be gone for long.

With nothing else to do, I sat down to watch television. It made me feel less lonely. As I scanned the channels, I came across a few of them that weren't in English. Harry and Marvin would usually skip over them, but on that evening, I paid them renewed attention. If what our new neighbor had said was right, and nearly half the town spoke French, I assumed that was the language spoken on those channels.

I wasn't interested or intrigued by the language as much as I was bored. There weren't any kids show on any of the English channels, but I found The Smurfs on one of the French ones. I still did not understand what they said, but the plot of The Smurfs had never been that hard to follow. It gave me something familiar to watch. Not only were there no commercials on that channel, but another cartoon soon followed. And that's how I came to spend the evening watching television in an unknown language.

The channel eventually went off the air, and it wasn't long until I heard the van pulling up in the driveway, signaling Harry and Marvin's return. I however only heard one door slam shut before the van pulled away again. That was odd. To my disappointment, Harry was alone when he came to unlock me. I couldn't tell if their job had gone well or not. He looked annoyed by something.

Harry must've gave in to Marvin's arguments about reprinting their flyers because he pushed the box my way, saying I could use it as colouring paper.

"Where's Marv?" I asked, seeing how late it was, and how he wasn't back yet.

Harry's expression soured.

"He's busy."

I assumed Harry meant he was running some errands, and didn't think about it until Harry declared it was time to go to bed. There was still no sign of Marvin. This was unusual.

"Where's Marv? Is he still working?

– Don't worry about that.

– When is he coming back?

– He'll be back tomorrow. Stop asking questions."

For the first time since I crossed the burglars' path, Marvin failed to come home that night. I was not worried about him per se, but at that point, any change to our daily routine disturbed me. And since Harry sounded annoyed, I was cautious. There was a clear correlation between us meeting our new neighbor, and Marvin disappearing for the night, but I was too young to get it.

It was almost noon by the time Marvin returned the next day. Harry had finished his coffee hours earlier, and was mixing a marinade. I was working on the puzzles in the morning paper. Harry welcomed his partner with a mix of amusement and exasperation:

"Got it out of your system, now?

– Give me a break, Harry! You spent a week in New York; don't try and pretend you lived like a monk. Got any coffee left?

– It was New York, Marv; not some next-door neighbor! And didn't you get coffee at her place?

– She only had instant coffee. Small towns are convenient for some stuff, but damn their coffee sucks!"

Harry glanced my way, and I absorbed myself in my puzzles, pretending not to be listening.

"Marv, you know what you're doing, right?

– Course I do!" replied Marvin, filling the coffee pot with water. "Why would you ask that?

– She can't come here again.

– What do you think I am, a complete idiot?" he said while measuring coffee and getting the machine started. "Don't worry about it, I already explained to Mylène that my son was not ready to see me with another woman. She's really understanding."

I lifted my eyes off my puzzles, angered by Marvin's word.

"I'm not your son!"

Marvin froze at my words. I think he had more or less forgotten I was in the room. I didn't like the look that passed between Harry and him. I didn't know what it meant, but saw Harry shake his head to Marvin ever so slightly. After an uncomfortable pause, Marvin gave me an insincere smile:

"We talked about this, kid. If we're going to be a family-

– You're _not_ my dad." I wouldn't let him finish.

No matter how many times Marvin repeated that stuff about us being a family, I would not budge; I wouldn't let him say he was my dad.

"Listen, kid-

– Don't tell people you're my dad. You're not!"

Marvin looked at Harry in frustration.

"You know you can jump in this conversation any time."

Marvin turning to Harry for help put on me on edge. We all knew by then that Harry always found a way to bend me to his will. Luckily, Harry had no intention to pick up _that_ fight.

Not yet anyway.

I anxiously awaited his move. Harry didn't say anything right away. He took the time to wipe his hands on a kitchen clothe before making his now familiar demand:

"What's your name, kid?"

Marvin had put me on the defensive, and I didn't answer him.

"You know I won't ask again." threatened Harry.

Full of anger, I spat the answer they both wanted to hear:

"Kevin Merchants."

Marvin did not appreciate my tone and glowered at me. Harry however didn't so much as raise an eyebrow.

"See Marv?" he said. "You push too hard. First things first; work on turning that frown upside down, and then we'll see."

I wasn't sure if it meant I had won that battle. Harry didn't say anything else and busied himself with spreading his marinade over a piece of meat.

"Are you serious?" protested Marvin. "What if Mylène shows up here and-

– She's doesn't come here again!" snapped Harry, slamming the marinade dish down. "I don't care what you tell her, you keep her away from the house. God! See what happens when you think with your dick! Like we needed this complication!

– Alright, alright, I'll take care of it!" Marvin quickly backtracked.

And he did. I'm not sure how Marvin handled the situation, but I didn't see much of our neighbor. I saw glimpses of her occasionally when she walked her dog, but Marvin had always found an excuse or another to keep her way from the house and me.

That didn't mean Marvin stopped seeing her; he would eat out with her and spend the night at her place at least once a week. Harry did not seem to hold it against him. He made it clear that, as long as Marvin kept that woman away from the house, he could do as he pleased. I expected Harry to worry over his partner starting a relationship with someone, but I didn't know Marvin as well as Harry did. When it came to the women in their lives, they shared a similar philosophy: love them, and leave them. It was not a way of life I had been raised to understand.

It was lucky neither of them ever contemplated matrimony; my abduction would've made that scenario difficult, if not to say impossible. All things considered, their love life, or to call it for what it really was, their sex lives, did not change all that much.

Harry and Marvin didn't have many rules, but long before I came along, they had agreed on a simple one: don't bring your skanks back home. None of them were interested in having breakfast with their partner's latest one-night stand. So it was agreed, no women came to the house. What started as a tacit agreement became a necessity after my kidnapping; they could not have strangers coming and going. The less people saw and knew about me, the better.

I came to understand that Marvin was a ladies' man, flirting whenever a pretty girl was in sight. He wasn't subtle, and used an arsenal of pick-up lines that earned him far too many slaps and drinks to the face to count. Marvin never let that discourage him, and would always find a woman desperate, drunk, or plain dumb enough, sometimes all of the above, to take him back home.

Harry was less flamboyant; he preferred to lean back at the bar, and take the time to read the room. For all the times I watched him in later years, I still can't pinpoint his strategy. I know he never chased the first woman he crossed, or even the drunkest of the lot. It could take him a while, but when he made a pass at a woman, sometimes using something as simple as a light touch, it was usually all he needed to hold her attention, and his advances were rarely turned down. Maybe it was just confidence.

In a way, my presence actually proved beneficial to them. Women were much more understanding of Harry or Marvin's reluctance at inviting them over after being informed there was a child at home. Boundaries had to be respected or such nonsense. Some women even went as far as to find what their interpreted as sensitivity on their part endearing.

What really changed was their dating scene, especially after moving to Canada. Marvin's flirting strategy was not compatible with small towns where everybody knew each other. He proved flexible and found a way around that problem: me.

If our new neighbor taught him anything, it was that having a kid could actually give him an edge with the ladies. In the years to come, Marvin showed he was not above using me as both bait for women, and as an excuse not to commit to any of them. With me around, he wasn't a confirmed bachelor hanging at bars looking for a hook-up anymore, but a respectable widower caring for his only child. Clearly a man with strong family values. If anything, Marvin's new status as a single father expanded his dating opportunities. Many not so dumb women fell for his act.

Marvin did not mind playing the widower. I think it amused him. He even got a ring to look the part. He wouldn't wear it, but kept it in his wallet. To anybody who asked, most likely women, he had always "just accepted" to take it off.

The ladies thought it was sweet.

I thought it was corny.

I have come to view wedding bands for the empty symbols they are. I was not always so cynical. There was a time when I associated wedding rings with marriage and love. Harry taught me otherwise during that first summer in Canada.

With Marvin spending his evenings and nights over at our neighbor's place, I was left alone with Harry. Unlike Marvin, Harry never tried to entertain me. I had television, a few toys and books; I guess he thought it ought to be enough. He would read, take care of some business like paying bills, or balancing their books. At least once a week, he would call Charlie, the only time he would use the phone in my presence.

I hated those calls. Even if I'd wanted to, I could not follow his discussions as they were always carried in Italian. I tried my best to ignore Harry, but I had a feeling he was discussing me more often than not. It gave me cold sweats.

It was during one of those calls that I came to notice it. As Harry's right hand was busy doodling, he would hold the phone using his left hand. And that's how I came to realize Harry wore a wedding band. It was a simple gold ring, nothing fancy. After all the jewelry I had seen Harry and Marvin steal and resell, I had expected Harry's taste to be more expensive. Shows how little I knew him back then. Every day Harry would wear that ring. I'm not even sure he took it off to sleep. I had never heard Harry mention any women by name, and so I was intrigued. One evening, I worked up the courage to ask him about it.

"Harry, where's your wife?"

Harry had been busy putting the final details to one of their contracts. I'm not sure what had done it, our neighbor putting a good word for Harry and Marvin with her friends, their publicity flyers, or the quality of their work, but little over a month had elapse since our arrival and they were busy all over town. Some contractors had even approached them regarding a new housing development project.

"My what?" was his distracted answer.

"Your wife. Where is she? Are you divorced?"

Some of my friends' parents had recently divorced, so why not Harry? It would explain why he never mentioned her.

"My wife? Kid, do I look like a marrying man to you?"

I did not know how to answer that question. Besides Harry and Marvin, most of the adults I knew were married. What did a marrying man look like anyway?

"You're wearing a ring." I said, pointing at his left hand.

"Oh that! I'm not married, kid; The ring was my grandfather's.

– It looks like a wedding ring.

– That's cause it was _his_ wedding ring."

I could've left it at that, but damn I was curious, and had to get to the bottom of this.

"How come you're wearing it on _that_ finger? That's the ring finger."

Harry kept writing, but I saw he had the beginning of a smile.

"I know what finger that is. That's the point."

His answer didn't make sense. Why would he play pretend?

"You want people to think you're married? Why?"

Harry put his pen down, and looked at me.

"The same reason I came to your house dressed as a cop. It's all about status kid. You get it?"

That answer was too cryptic for me to follow, and I shook my head.

"See, a ring is just a piece of jewelry, but wear it on the right finger, and it means something. For a guy like me, it lends respectability.

– Respectability?

– It means people will trust me, if they believe I'm married.

– They will?"

I had never given wedding rings much thought. When I had first met Harry, I hadn't trusted him one bit, even if he was dressed as a cop.

But my parents had. Clearly he had done something right.

"People are quick to judge. They make all kinds of assumption based on what they see." explained Harry. "You think a housewife, or a woman all by herself with a baby would let me in to discuss a contract? Hell no! But when they spot the wedding ring, it's a different story. Suddenly, I'm a nice guy. They imagine I have a sweet wife and kids at home; it makes me one of them. Trustworthy. Believe me, that ring got me in more houses than you'd imagine."

That explanation left me speechless. It was so… wrong. Way worse than impersonating a cop!

"You wear a wedding ring so you can steal from people?

"No, kid. I make a living gaining access to people's house. The ring helps with that part. Stealing is just a bonus. Not all our clients are worth stealing from; you should see the dumps we sometimes have to work in."

Had I been older, I would've told Harry his explanation made more sense than a woman accepting to marry him, but since I was only eight, I told him instead:

"Why don't you just get married, instead of pretending?"

Harry burst out laughing before I could finish my question. I did not make Harry laugh very often, but every time I did, I always felt it was at my expense.

"Get married?" he repeated, wiping away a tear of laughter. "My grandfather's one piece of advice upon giving me his ring was that I should _never_ get married. He was a smart man; it was good advice. You should take note of that, kid."

I did not ask Harry what was so funny about the idea of marriage. My values had been shaken enough for one day.

At the time, all I knew about love and marriage was what I had learned from my family. There were no bachelors, and definitely no divorcees, within my close relatives. All my uncles were married with children, and seemed satisfied with their lives. My parents had what looked like a strong and loving marriage. With those kinds of model, it's not surprising I could not envision life any other way, and I didn't understand why Harry had such a poor opinion of married life.

I had never given single life much thought. Being single seemed like nothing more than a step before finding a girlfriend and getting married. That's what everybody did. Everybody I knew anyway. I didn't see, or understand why some people would prefer being single to being married, or why anyone would even make that choice. All the bachelors depicted in movies or sitcoms ended up tying the knot. To me, marriage was part of the natural order of life, just like going to school, and finding a job. It was a part of growing up.

Harry and Marvin sure taught me a different way of living.

Now that I think about it, Marvin's stance on marriage was a little strange considering how important our "family" was to him. He sure had me fooled considering how much time he spent with our neighbor. It was the first time I saw Marvin actively pursuing a woman, and truth be told, it got me worried.

I was not afraid Marvin might prefer her company to mine. I wasn't jealous, or anything like that. I was not even afraid he'd move in with his girlfriend, though the idea of being left alone with Harry really should've scared me, no it was the other scenario that kept me up at night; the idea that Marvin might marry this woman, and that she might move in with us.

I had nothing against the woman herself, she sounded nice. Marvin said she cooked well, and I liked her dog. It was nothing personal. It was just that with Marvin talking about us being a family all the time, it got me worried he might try to find me a new _mother_. I couldn't bear the thought. Again, I was too young to see how impossible that would've been, and took Harry and Marvin's talk of becoming a family far too literally. And to the child I was, what family would be complete without a mother?

So I waited, watched, and listened every time Marvin would mention our neighbor. He didn't say that much about her, just little comments here and there, pieces of information, or gossip about town he would relay to Harry. I never asked about her, I didn't want to share my concerns for fear of having them confirmed, until one day, the subject just came up.

Harry had gone in town that morning to get pictures of one of their job site developed for their client's insurance company. I was in a grumpy mood after waking up with a dozen fresh mosquito bites. We had had a barbecue in the backyard on the previous evening, and even if I had been careful to stay close to the mosquito repellent coils, I had been unable to escape the blood-sucking fiends. Harry had promised to buy some after-bite, but in the meanwhile, I was itching like crazy.

After telling me to stop scratching myself for what felt like the hundredth time, Marvin mixed some baking soda and water into a paste he applied on the bites. To my relief, the itching soon receded.

"Feeling better?

– Yeah.

– Mylène told me about that trick the other day." Marvin told me as rinsed the bowl he had used. "Thought we might give that a try until Harry comes back."

A homemade after-bite recipe. The sort of thing only a mother would know. I scowled angrily at Marvin.

"Hey, what's the matter, kid?"

The touchy subject of Marvin's affiliation with me was one I tried my best to avoid, so I didn't tell him outright what was bothering me.

"I don't like her." was all I said.

Marvin had no way of knowing what was going through my mind, and looked at me with surprise.

"Her? You mean Mylène? Why not?"

Instead of answering him, I asked him point-blank:

"Are you going to marry Blanche?"

Marvin looked at me as if I'd just used foul language.

"God no! What makes you say that?"

His answer had been so spontaneous I knew he was telling the truth, and breathed an internal sigh of relief. I followed Marvin in the basement.

"Well, she's your girlfriend isn't she?

– The word "girlfriend" is used very loosely in this context, kid." he told me while taking clothes out of the drying machine.

I did not understand what he meant. If our neighbor was not his girlfriend, then what was she? Since they weren't married, I didn't how else to qualify her.

"Blanche is not your girlfriend?"

Overall, it sounded like my fears were unfounded, but I found Marvin's statements puzzling. Until our neighbor entered our lives, I had no reference to recognize what a hook-up looked like. Even sitcoms and movies glossed over the details.

"Well I wouldn't call her that." Marvin told me with a sardonic smile as he folded laundry.

"If she's not your girlfriend, how come you spend so much time with her?"

Marvin's smile widened.

"Because Mylène's the kind of girl that'll show you a good time. She's not girlfriend material, but she is fun. And trust me when I say that sometime, that's all you need."

That was one of my first sex talks with Marvin. No doubt, my parents would've frown upon Marvin's views on relationship and women, but I did appreciate his unabashed frankness. I was not entirely clueless; I had a feeling he meant sex, but his explanations did not sound compatible with the teachings I had received.

"You're having sex with Blanche."

Marvin did not deny it, or seemed remotely embarrassed by my question.

"You know about sex?

– I thought you were supposed to wait until you got married to have sex." I said, remembering my parent's words.

"Oh, thank God that's a lie, kid." grinned Marvin. "That's just something adults tell children to keep them from discovering sex, like that ever made a difference."

My curiosity was sparked, but that conversation was quickly forgotten when we both heard car tires screech to a halt in the driveway. I glanced out one of the window, and saw it was Harry. There was something in his steps that triggered my internal alarm. No sooner had Harry walked into the house did he slam the door shut behind him, screaming on top of his voice:

"Marv, where the fuck are you!"

Startled I looked over to Marvin, who seemed just as surprised as I was. Harry didn't wait for his partner's response, and practically barged in the basement, livid with rage. I almost expected to find him foaming at the mouth, and cautiously moved in a corner of the room to avoid becoming the target of his wrath.

"What did you do, you _idiot_!

– What do you mean, I didn't do anything!" protested a bewildered Marvin.

"Nothing! You call this nothing?" shouted Harry, waving something I could not see before Marvin' eyes.

Marvin took a look at what I thought was some piece of paper, and I saw him falter.

"That's… that's nothing, Harry.

– No it's not you moron! That's a picture! That's evidence! After everything we did to cover our tracks, how could you be so _fucking dumb_!"

Harry threw what I now saw was indeed a picture at Marvin. He didn't try to hold on to it and let it fall to the floor.

"It's just the one picture. I didn't think…

– No you really didn't! How long was that on the camera, huh? And you didn't even tell me! Do you have any idea what could've happened had I got that film developed in Chicago?"

While Harry ranted and railed at Marvin, I made myself as small as possible, and using my foot, retrieved the picture, sliding it my way. Given Harry's rage, I suppose I should've guessed this would be about me, and yet I was still shocked to discover a picture of myself asleep in the house back in Chicago. It explained why I had no recollection of them ever taking my picture! I was holding my elephant, and still had my long blond hair. That dated the picture to Harry's last business trip.

"Okay, I admit it, I forgot about the picture, I'm sorry! But people who develop photos don't have time to look at them!" Marvin tried to appease Harry.

"Funny you should mention that, cause the cashier today sure did! Your little fuck friend opened her trap about you having a kid, so the cashier knew he was yours. She even wanted to know which school he would be attending in September! Fucking meddlesome small town!" Harry yelled, throwing the rest of the pictures at the wall, sending them flying in all directions.

I winced, and stepped back, but Marvin merely looked crestfallen at the news.

"Oh… What'd you say?

– _That's_ what you're worried about?

– I just want to make sure we're on the same page. I already told Mylène I wasn't comfortable with my kid attending any of the catholic schools in town.

– You're not my dad!"

I really should've stayed out of it, but every time Harry and Marvin mentioned he was my dad in front of me, it felt like a betrayal. I couldn't let them get away with it.

"Kid, I swear to God, not now!" shouted Marvin my way.

I jumped back at his outburst, dropping the picture in the process. I didn't pick it up again. I found it disturbing.

"Why? Why would you take that picture!" hissed Harry at his partner. "Do you want us to get caught? You want to go to jail, is that it?

– No! Look I didn't plan to take that picture, it just happened! It… made sense at the time.

– Made sense? No Marv, it was stupid and reckless!

– It was _not_ stupid! Think… Think about your parents' place, Harry; how many pictures of you and brothers do they have hanging up on their walls?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, but didn't answer.

"How about the guys back in Chicago" insisted Marvin. "Remember Ray and Mike? We used to roll our eyes whenever they would flash the newest pictures of their brats they carried in their wallets. See where I'm going with this?

– So you thought that taking pictures of a kid" said Harry, pointing at me. "whose face has been printed in every newspaper in the country would be a good idea? And you wanted to what? Carry it in your wallet?

– Not right away, not in Chicago!" Marvin ran his hand through his hair, looking for his words. "We already knew we'd be leaving for Canada, so I thought, why not? You want to make this little story about us being a family believable? Well families take pictures. Even Mylène said it was strange I didn't have a picture of the kid with me.

– She wasn't supposed to find out about the kid. No one was!

– I know that was the plan, but shit happens! That's life. We need to roll with it. I know you said it was too soon, and I agreed, but we need to get started on this family thing _right now_. Before something else blows up in our faces."

Harry still shot daggers at Marvin, but the storm had passed, he was already calmer. He picked up the picture I had discarded, and took a long look at it.

"You took a picture of the kid while he slept?

– Had to.

– Why? Afraid he'd tell on you?" sneered Harry.

Instead of answering him, Marvin motioned Harry to look at me. I didn't like to become the focus of their attention, and stayed on my guard.

"Look at the kid, Harry. You try and make him smile for the camera when he always looks angry, terrified, or about to cry."

Smile for the camera? I repressed a frown; I hadn't had a reason to smile in a long time. Harry took another look at the picture, and I think he saw Marvin had a point. He eventually handed the picture back to Marvin, but held on to it a moment, locking eyes with his partner.

"You know I hate surprises, Marv. Don't ever leave me in the dark about the kid again."

Marvin didn't answer. He didn't need to. They understood each other perfectly.

And that's how our "family album" got started. It expanded over the years with Marvin as the main photographer. I'm not quite sure why he felt that was necessary. Did he really want to remember those early days? I know I'd rather forget.

I rarely go through those albums. I only see a small boy who would glare angrily at the camera so as not to betray how helpless and alone he truly felt. Try as he might, Marvin never got me to smile for any of those pictures. When he was lucky, he would manage to snap a picture when I did not expect it, capturing the shadow of a smile.

Harry rarely troubled himself with taking pictures. He would however sometime instruct Marvin to take some more specific shots. He never told me why, and I never asked. One thing was for sure, those pictures would usually not make their way into the album. They, along with a few others Marvin took, including this very first picture, vanished. Harry claimed they must've got lost over our many moves.

I know better.

Harry would've had a fit had any of my pictures truly gone missing. He knows exactly where they are, and so do I.

There was only one person Harry would send those pictures to, and I was in no hurry to find out why.

 _AN: Just a quick note, everything Harry told Kevin regarding the wedding ring is actually an adaptation of an old trick used by serial killers and rapists to gain their victims' trust. I thought this brand of manipulation would fit Harry's personality._

 _I got the idea for Marv being able to speak French from HA2, so I thought I might have some fun with that._


	18. Chapter 17

_Hey there!_

 _Oh my story is running so late! I was supposed to be done with the Halloween chapter by now, but I once again underestimated the amount of writing required by these scenes._

 _I hope you'll enjoy!_

Chapter 17

That picture crisis was Harry and Marvin's last big fight. There was plenty of arguing and bickering in their future, but no more full-scale screaming at one another. This change was a welcomed one; I had never been raised in an environment where shouting, threatening, or throwing things was acceptable. Even in my most heated arguments with my siblings, I had never been afraid of things turning violent. As I now knew from experience, the same could not be said of Harry and Marvin.

Things sort of settled down, though I was still under a lot of stress. With the return of Harry's thoughtful expression and Marvin's unnatural smile in the days that followed, I expected the worst.

Nothing happened.

Not really.

Nothing I could identify.

And yet something _was_ different.

Harry might not have agreed with what Marvin had done, but I think some of the things he said resonated with Harry; mainly that I was scared, and profoundly unhappy. Until then, I think it's fair to say that Harry had not been too concerned with my feelings; his priority had been to ensure his and Marvin's survival. Now that they both felt secure, they could focus on the second part of our living conditions, the family part. My fears might've served Harry and Marvin well in breaking me in, but fear would only get them so far in the long run.

They had to draw me in.

"Here." Harry said as he handed me the Sears catalogue over breakfast one day. "You need a new comforter for your bed, the one you have is too old. Pick one and we'll order it for you."

Talk about an unexpected request! My cereal bowl laid forgotten in front of me as I looked from Harry to the catalogue without knowing if this was some sort of test. Choosing a comforter didn't sound like the sort of decision they would usually involve me in.

"You want _me_ to pick one? Which one?"

Marvin, who had been sitting next to me, encouraged me:

"Just pick one you like.

– Anything's better than that old rag you've got." Harry added on a dismissive tone.

"Yeah, it looks like an old lady's comforter. Let's find you something to replace that floral pattern."

Since my upgrade from storage room to bedroom, I had not cared much about my comforter. It was old, yes, but it kept me warm. Now that Marvin mentioned it, the floral pattern was ugly there was no denying it.

I peered over the catalogue for a long time, a little overwhelmed by the number of models on display. I had never had any say in my bedding before; my parents made those decisions, and since I shared my bedroom with Jeff, they usually provided us with matching neutral comforters and bed sheets to avoid any fight between us. This was more than a choice; it was a privilege, the kind my own family had never granted me. I studied my options with all the seriousness such a decision required.

"I can pick _any_ one I want?"

Marvin looked over at Harry for confirmation, and he shrugged.

"It's Sears; we can afford whichever one he wants."

Reassured now that I had Harry's word, I took my time to flip through the catalogue.

"Do you want a cowboy set? It has a horse on it." Marvin chatted away. "How about the one with dinosaurs? You like dinosaurs?"

I shook my head, remembering how one of my friends had got beat up over his dinosaur pajamas. Sleeping in dinosaur bed sheets had to be a much greater offense. I therefore quickly discarded the colourful sets for kids with their trains, racing cars and smiling animals. I didn't want anything so childish. Bearing this in mind, I assessed each comforter with care before pointing to a quill with an intricate patchwork of blue and grey with sporty designs on it. I never said so, but it reminded me of Buzz's bedroom and wallpaper. Something I felt appropriate for a teenager.

"Nice!" approved Marvin, marking my choice with a pen before giving the catalogue back to Harry.

I waited nervously for Harry to object, or comment on my choice, but he didn't say a word and ordered the lot the very next day, including pillows shams and matching drapes. Just like that! No arguing, no trying to steer me toward something else, they just bought it for me. I still had some difficulty believing it when Harry informed me I should get my new bed set in about two weeks.

"Two weeks! That's more than enough time to repaint your room; what do you say, kid?" Marvin declared.

"You're going to repaint my room?

– The place could use a fresh coat of paint." agreed Harry.

"You ever painted before? You wanna help?" offered Marvin.

My parents had never wanted me around when they worked around the house. I always ended up getting in the way, or messing things up, so I was excited by this project. My surprise did not end there; later that week Harry and Marvin presented me with paint colours samples and let me have my pick of any two I liked.

I was a little young to paint the walls, and not nearly meticulous enough to take care of the baseboards, but Marvin brought back some wooden crates and big stencils for kids from the local hardware store for me to work with. He then set up an area in the basement, using my old comforter as sheeting. He lent me paintbrushes and rollers, and let me have my fun while he and Harry painted my bedroom. They let me do whatever I wanted with the crates, but for some reason, they would not let me handle the paint cans...

I still distrusted my captors, but I will not deny how much fun I had over that weekend. I probably ended up getting as much paint on myself as on the crates, but I was so proud of my work. Harry and Marvin didn't scold me for getting dirty, touched-up the crates when I wasn't looking, and got pizza for dinner. It was… nice.

When I got my new bed set, Marvin fixed my wooden crates to the wall so I could use them as shelves. It's where I kept my slingshot, a bird nest I had found, some car magazines and other toys. The finishing touch to my new bedroom came from Harry. He gave me a homemade nightlight, most likely to try and get me to stop sleeping with the lights on. He had varnished a hallowed piece of washed out driftwood riddled with holes and splits. Inside, he had fixed a lightbulb so it would cast a soft light around the room. Harry was careful not to call it a nightlight, but a lantern. I don't think I ever told him, but I had never owed anything so original. It definitely did not look like a kid's nightlight and I felt no shame in leaving it on at night.

Redecorating my room became a tradition Harry and Marvin encouraged and maintained over the years. On a regular basis, following a recent move, or simply when I got bored, they would redecorate my room. I got a camo theme for a while, before falling in love with a black duvet cover with splashes of bright colours, like someone has dropped paint cans all over it. I switched to a classic navy blue later on, followed by a jazzier black and white wallpaper with a solid red bedspread. When I got older, Marvin and I had a blast designing one of my rooms in a car theme, hanging framed vintage car plates, using a collection of old gauge cluster sets to create a headboard for my bed, and hubcaps for decoration. We even refurbished my dresser together so it would resemble a tool chest; it was awesome!

Besides the first few months of my captivity, I always had a bedroom that reflected my taste. Harry and Marvin indulged me; most likely on account of how much time I spent in my room. They never rejected any of my ideas, except when I asked for black walls. They wouldn't do it. They said it was too depressing. When I insisted, they compromised by agreeing to paint _one_ of the four walls black. The others remained white. Harry and Marvin went further by installing spotlights in the ceiling to light up that wall, and offered me colourful posters to liven up the place. I didn't dislike it.

This symbolic freedom meant more to me than I first realized. It wasn't _home_ , but it was a room all to myself. Although I could not put a word on the feeling, it made me feel like I belonged.

And that's how they did it, that's how they laid the foundations of our "family"; not by making dramatic speeches, or grand gestures, but by fostering this feeling of belonging.

How these two selfish crooks ever got me to look up to them as a twisted version of family must be one of their greatest accomplishments. It took them years, but time was on their side and in the end, they won. We _are_ family.

It's a truth I have stopped denying.

There's no point.

The bedroom was just _one_ example. They introduced slow and gradual changes in our routine I did not see or thought about twice. My favorite cereals made its way on their shopping list. After mentioning I preferred crunchy peanut butter to smooth, they bought both. Little things that showed they listened.

Harry and Marvin were careful not to mention anything about us being a family for a while to avoid getting me all riled up again. Besides this consideration, I'm not sure they had a plan. When it came to dealing with me, they trusted their guts more than anything, worming their way in slowly, but surely.

Following the success of my bedroom experience, Harry and Marvin took things one step further by giving me more say over our day-to-day activities. They wouldn't let me have my way all the time, far from it, but again, small gestures went a long way with me. When they bought new toothbrushes, they would let me pick which colour I liked. When they rented movies, they would let me chose which one we would watch first, that sort of thing. I was even given choices over my daily chores; did I prefer washing the dishes or drying them? Did I want to vacuum the basement, or do the laundry? I was still expected to do my chores, but it gave me a false sense of control over my life.

This type of behaviour seemed to come more naturally to Marvin. He came up with various ways to build my trust, like taking me on a tour of the house before going to bed, checking every lock, window and door together. When racoons turned over our trashcans, he asked me to help him design a deterrent to keep them away. When in turn I asked if I could wash the car and van with him, he happily complied.

Harry was a different story. For obvious reasons, he incarnated most of my fears. I was full of pride, and did my best no to show how much he scared me, but Harry could hardly fail to notice how I drew back whenever he raised his voice, or made a sudden movement. Being who he was, Harry did not sit me down, or wasted his breath trying to reassure me. His personality was not inclined to such strategies, and it would've been so out of character, he might've ended up scaring me even more.

Harry opted for something much simpler.

He stopped ignoring me.

It would be years before we could have real conversations, but he would no longer ignore my questions or chatter, even when it annoyed him. Harry had never been one for small talk, so I know how much this must've cost him.

Marvin found all kinds of ways of connecting with me. Harry stuck to what he knew: cooking. He rarely used a cooking book, or followed a recipe; everything Harry needed to know was in his mind, so he showed me.

"Can I cut the peppers?

– You can start by washing the tomatoes and peppers and peeling the carrots." he instructed me.

I watched Harry dice the onions, mildly fascinated by how quickly he worked with the knife. Under his blade, vegetables were promptly chopped in small, but even pieces. I don't think my grandmother Penelope was as skilled as Harry with a knife. Maybe this ability should've worried me, but I was blind to its more sinister application. I only saw that Harry could chop and dice anything almost effortlessly.

"Can I try?

– Finish peeling the carrots. Did you wash the basil, like I asked?

– Yes. How about garlic? Can I cut the garlic?

– The cloves are too small for you to cut. Peel them, and then you can press them."

Harry wouldn't let me handle a knife for a long time, but he put me in charge of washing the vegetables, pealing the potatoes and carrots, grating cheese, pressing garlic and measuring ingredients. It might not sound like much, but little by little, I stopped identifying Harry as nothing more than a menacing presence in the background.

I did not expect to enjoy cooking. Back at home, I had never been involved in the kitchen. My parents cooked. I was forbidden from touching the stove. Megan would get started on dinner on weekdays when she watched over me, but she didn't ask for my help. I did my homework at the kitchen table until she told me put my notebooks away and set the table. That was the extent of my involvement.

Except for knives, there was nothing off-limits when I cooked with Harry. Maybe it was boredom, but I began to look forward to these cooking sessions. I wasn't studying anymore, and spent way too much time on my own while Harry and Marvin were away all day. Cooking gave me something to learn and experience with, a need I didn't knew I had until I stopped attending school.

Harry might've understood that, so he made sure to keep my interest by varying my tasks, using new ingredients, and trying new recipes. He enrolled my help in making my first batch of sauce later that summer. Harry made it sound like a very solemn affair, which, after getting to know him better, I realized it was.

"Now remember, kid; when you're making any Italian sauce, the trick is to start by bringing the olive oil up to temperature very slowly, gradually adding your garlic, herbs and spices. That way the oil has time to absorb all the seasoning and it'll bring out the flavor in your sauce."

I looked at the herbs Harry had chopped on the side. It was Harry who made me appreciated the taste of coriander, an herb I can't get enough of, but I liked the smell of basil even more. It didn't have anything in common with the dried herbs and spices my mother used. I frowned at the memory.

"My mom doesn't put any herbs in her sauce."

The words had just slipped, and I bite my lip, angry at myself for letting souvenirs of my past resurface like this. Unlike Marvin, Harry didn't openly slander my parents, or reprimanded me for mentioning them. He did not encourage me, but he didn't punish me either.

"She's no Italian." was his only response.

Pointing to the ground meat packages he told me:

"Put those in a bowl and mix it all together. You can add pepper if you like."

That was the end of that conversation. Determined to ignore how heavy my heart felt, I abandoned my peeled carrots to Harry's knife, and took a bowl out, hoping to get my mind off things. After a minute or two, the sting behind faded away, and I then noticed something strange about the meat I was mixing.

"Harry, how come the meat is different colour?"

Harry lifted his eyes from the cutting board.

"What?

– The meat" I repeated. "This one is red, this one is pale red, and that other one is almost pink.

– Oh, that's normal, kid. We're using different kinds of meat.

– We are?

– Yes, we're mixing beef, veal and pork. It adds more flavor."

Harry stopped himself there for a second, before adding as an afterthought:

"That's an Italian secret. Don't tell Marv."

I looked at Harry in curiosity. It was the first time he led me to believe there were any secrets between Marvin and him.

"Why?

– Marv… doesn't like pork. Or he thinks he doesn't like it. When it's mixed with other stuff, he can't tell the difference. You know Marv's no cook. He wouldn't understand.

– Oh. Okay." and I thought nothing else of it.

Dirty, sneaky Harry had a whole other reason not to let Marvin in on his "Italian secret". Back then, I didn't make anything of this information. To me, Harry's reasoning was similar to my parent's when they covered my Brussel sprouts with cheese. Marvin didn't strike me as a fussy eater, he always cleaned up his plate, but I supposed we all had our quirks. I think, not so deep down, Marvin knew Harry's cooking wasn't exactly kosher, but pretended not to by never asking him about it. That was another of their unspoken agreement. Besides, I was much more interested by what Harry's statement implied.

"Since I know the secret, does that mean _I_ 'm a cook?

– You're helping me, aren't you? I'll show you'll how to make fine Italian dishes. Now mix the meat, and I'll let you cook it on the stove top."

I was secretly pleased to hear Harry say so. It was nice to be recognised for what I did, and Harry always remembered to let Marvin know how I had helped him with a meal.

Harry got me a footstool so I could steer the sauce while he got rid of the meat packages. Just in time too as Marvin came back with fresh groceries shortly afterward.

"I see you've raided the fridge to do you spaghetti sauce, as usual.

– It's a ragù, Marv. Not spaghetti sauce." Harry corrected him.

"Well it smells like spaghetti. Were you planning on eating pasta tonight, cause I bought steaks.

– We'll have the steaks. This sauce has got to stew all day.

– All day? Why do you always pick the hottest day of summer to do your sauce? Spaghetti is really more of a fall thing."

Harry smirked, and nudged me.

"You want to tell him, kid?

– Because the tomatoes and herbs are in season." I chirped back, remembering what Harry had explaining that morning.

Marvin looked at me with amusement.

"Well looks who's turning into a little chef. Give me a hand unpacking the groceries, will ya?"

Harry took my place at the stove so I could help Marvin. I didn't mind, this way I could see what snacks Marvin had bought for the week. That was another new habit of theirs; making sure I had snacks on hand whenever they left the house. They bought me applesauce cups, bags of mix nuts and dried fruits, granola bars and crackers. I usually also had whatever fruit was in season, cut veggies and, on Fridays, some Oreo cookies or chips.

My unpacking was soon distracted by the sound of a now familiar jingle coming from the television in the living room. My show was starting!

"Can I go watch?" I asked Marvin as he finished unpacking the last bag.

– Sure, go."

I sat down in front of the television, ignoring Harry telling Marvin once again to stop spoiling me.

"It's just a little television, what's the harm?

– You realize he's only asking you cause he knows you won't say no, right?"

Harry was not wrong; I knew to ask Marvin for favors and things he did not have the heart to refuse. Maybe I was being manipulative, but who could blame me for taking advantage whenever I thought I could get away with it? Knowing that Harry would not openly contradict Marvin after he had given me permission, I tried to forget about him and focused on my program, a show I had discovered on one of the French channels.

I did not sense Harry's presence behind me until he spoke:

"What are you watching?

– Since when do you care?"

Harry gave me a sharp look, but since my question had arisen from curiosity and not insolence, he chose to let it go.

"Don't get smart with me." he said. "Why are you watching TV in French?"

When Harry stopped ignoring me, he also started to question what I watched and listened. I'm not quite sure why, he still wouldn't keep me from watching movies meant for an older audience.

"They tell stories and sing songs." I explained.

Harry considered the woman on screen with a look of distaste. Dressed in bright yellow, she was acting in what felt like a surreal environment devoid of any walls where all doors, windows and portraits were hanging in the air.

"It looks dumb. Watch something else, will ya." he said, walking away.

I did not change the channel however, and concentrated on the images and sounds. I liked the songs. They were catchy. And since the show was meant for kids, their meaning was not so hard to follow.

I never meant to learn French. Unlike my cousins and my sister Linnie, I did not rush to the library to pick a French book the second I had been told we would be going to Paris. I had no particular interest in languages, but what else did I have to do all day? It was a challenge. Many of the cartoons I watched were French translations of shows I was already familiar with, so I did not have too much difficulty following the storyline, though I never got used to hearing my favorite characters speak in a different voice. Gradually, almost without noticing, I understood more and more.

Marvin waited for the episode to end before walking up to me with his hands in his back and a great big smile. A genuine one. One that usually announced a special treat.

"Hey kid, guess what I got for you!"

This was not the first time Marvin had brought me back surprises from his errands in town.

"Did you rent Die Hard 2?" I asked, remembering how he had promised we'd watch it together.

"Nope.

– Gremlins 2?

– Oh, way better than a movie!" he said as he gave me what would become one of my favorite toys: a Gameboy!

"For me? For real?" I gasped eying the present with delight.

"You bet for real!"

I had never had one. Many of my friends did, but my parents did not believe in video games. They preferred classic board games, and other toys we could play with as a family. Jeff did have a small game console, but it wasn't a Gameboy. His godparents had offered it to him, and I wasn't allowed to play with it.

"Thanks, Marv!

– I had a feeling you'd like that."

Being a big kid at heart, Marvin knew just what toys would please me. Sometimes I can't help but feel he was trying to buy my affection, at least in part, but I also think it was the easiest way he found to assuage his guilt. Either way, I didn't thumb my nose at his gifts.

I was a kid; I didn't stop for a moment to consider the fact that the Gameboy Marvin had given me had not come in a box. There were no instructions and a game cartridge was already loaded in it. I just turned on the console and started a game of _Super Mario Land_.

It didn't take me long to understand how it all worked, and in the span of a few minutes, I was hooked. I was so engrossed in my game I did not pay attention to Harry as he walked back later. He stopped short next to me, but I couldn't take my eyes off the screen.

"Hey kid, what the hell is that?

– It's a Gameboy!

– Yes, I can see that, where'd you get it?" snapped Harry.

I had a feeling he already knew the answer to that question. Without waiting for my reply, Harry sighed angrily and called Marvin over.

"Marv! Get in here, now!

– Jeez! Harry, don't scream like that! For a second I thought-"

Marvin stopping himself mid-sentence when he saw me sitting on the couch where he had left me earlier.

"I thought there was an emergency." he clumsily finished.

More like that I had run away again! Ignoring Marvin's discomfort, Harry pointed at the Gameboy:

"Care to explain?

– That's a Gameboy, the kids are crazy about those things.

– I know what it is! I meant we just started to get work around here, I thought we agreed to discuss things over before throwing money out the window!

– Oh, if it's money you're worried about, don't. I used the five finger discount." Marvin reassured him.

It was the first time I heard that expression, and wasn't too clear on its meaning. Harry however got the drift all too well.

"You what? Where!

– It was in a car. Can you believe it wasn't even locked! The owner was totally asking for it. Got this too!" Marvin said, tossing a wallet to Harry. "There's about eighty bucks in it. No credit card, though. It's not much, but every little bit helps." he laughed.

Harry was in no laughing mood.

"Marv," he stated calmly. "Listen, can't you hear it?"

Both Marv and I stopped to listen. I didn't hear a sound, and neither did Marvin.

"No, what?

– It's the sound of town folks, sharpening their pitchforks, coming for our heads!

– Euh? No way, how would they know we had anything to do with it?

– Marv, when are you going to get it through your head that we're not in Chicago anymore? They haven't had a burglary in ten years. Two Americans from the big city move in, and cars get robbed? How long do you think it'll take them to figure that one out?

– Well that's just racist."

Shaking his head, I saw Harry go through the wallet, pocketing the money before handing it back to Marvin.

"Just bring back the wallet, you can say you found it in a gutter. Blame it on some kids. That should get us off the hook." he told him.

Marvin rolled his eyes, but agreed he'd take care of it. I had watched the scene in silence, unsure how it would play out. One detail did not escape me.

"You're keeping the money." I accused Harry. "That's still stealing.

– Well yeah, kid. Don't be dumb, never spit on easy money." he advised me.

I frowned down on Harry's philosophy. Eighty dollars sounded like a lot of money back then, and I pitied the poor car owner who had just been robbed. I then realized what this also meant. Somewhere, a kid not so different from me was missing his game console.

"You stole the Gameboy?"

Marvin was busy looking at the owner's driver license, and barely heard my question.

"Yeah, sure." he answered absentmindedly.

"So you're going to take it back too?" I assumed, looking down on the Gameboy with regret.

This declaration made Marvin stop and consider me with curiosity.

"Take it back? I just gave it to you. Don't you like it?

– Yes, but it's stolen. Harry said to take it back."

Marvin gave me a conspiratorial look.

"Ah, but Harry never said anything about the Gameboy. Right, Harry?

– Huh?

– The Gameboy, the kid thinks I'm going to give it back. What do you think?

– Well I suppose you _could_ do that." Harry said slowly, like he was pondering the question. Turning to me, he asked instead: "But do you _want_ Marv to give it back? If he does, you'll never get to finish that game you were playing. Bet it was real fun too."

Why did Harry have to ask? Regardless of my answer, they never would've given the Gameboy back. It wasn't like the wallet; kids never would've thrown that in the gutter, returning it would've made Marvin look suspicious.

Harry and Marvin were just pulling my leg, and probably didn't give much thought to the question, but I remember this moment as one of my first trials. Stealing was wrong. I knew that, and believed it. But on the other hand, I knew they wouldn't buy me a Gameboy; Harry had just said so. And it was such a fun game! How could I be given a brand new toy, and then be expected to give it back? Was it so wrong to want to keep something Marvin had given me? Even if it _was_ stolen?

I was a kid, and by all means, no saint. I knew right from wrong in theory, but I never expected wrong to be so tempting. My current predicament did not help; having been torn away from everything and everyone I knew really put my sense of morality into perspective. I missed my family, and I was angry at the universe for turning its back on me. Maybe I was being selfish, but wasn't I entitled to a little something after all I had gone through?

Harry and Marvin were the bad guys in all this, yet _they_ got away with everything! Why shouldn't I keep the Gameboy? I had, after all, not been the one to steal it.

"If you want the Gameboy, you can keep it." Harry enticed me further. "No one will ever know.

– Yeah, it'll be our secret." Marvin smiled down at me.

A secret. Funny.

Even if I'd wanted to, who could I have told? But they were right, I would not get into trouble for keeping the Gameboy.

No one would ever know.

Not my mom. Not my dad.

No one.

It was a dangerously liberating thought. Still, I hesitated.

"I can keep it? You're not going to sell it like all the other stuff?" I asked, thinking back on their previous loot.

– I gave you the Gameboy so you could keep it, not to sell it." Marvin assured me.

"We can't fence that kind of good around here anyway." Harry stated. "The word tends to go around real fast in small towns, and that's the last thing we need."

I caught Marvin's unhappily expression at Harry's statement, but his partner ignored him.

"Of course, if you really don't want to keep the Gameboy, we can always throw it away." reasoned Harry, moving to take the console from me.

"No! I'll keep it." I instantly reacted, drawing the Gameboy close to me.

And so, my conscience lost its first battle. As I held on to the toy, I had no idea I was on a slippery slope toward a life there was no coming back from.

"Fine, you keep it." chuckled Harry. "But don't get used to these gifts, kid. Marv won't be using that special discount of his anytime soon, right Marv?"

"Yeah, yeah…" he agreed half-heartedly.

Changing the subject, Marvin knelt beside me.

"How's the game? You want to show me?"

Distracted by Marvin's question, I pushed all thoughts of the Gameboy being stolen aside and decided to enjoy the gift, an attitude I would get more and more accustomed to as the years passed.

The Gameboy was a great way for me to pass the time during my lonely hours; I tried not to think about its origin too much. Once in a while, some remorse would nag at the back of my mind, but I was quick to remember where I was, and that was usually enough to put most of the guilt I felt to rest.

The weeks went by, one after the other, and the sort of truce that had established itself between the three of us held. That summer, more than any other, felt like it would go on forever. In late July, the lake finally reached a comfortable temperature, and I got to swim more often. As the mosquito season died down, we were also able to enjoy the backyard in the evening. We would have dinner outside and barbecues several nights a week.

Sometimes, after a long warm day, when the sky was clear, instead of sitting in front of the television, the three of us would light a campfire and spend the evening outside. Marvin bought marshmallows and sharpened a stick for me to use. He then showed me how to roast the marshmallows over the embers so they wouldn't burn. I ate enough to make myself sick, and ended those evenings with sticky hands from all the melted sugar, but again, this was nice.

I'm sure I was not the only one who appreciated those quiet evenings. Harry and Marvin would take the opportunity to relax, have a couple of drinks and joke around the fire. Sometimes, Marvin would tell creepy stories and old legends about what lurked about in the woods at night. He would tell me about mythical spirits that could possess those they encountered, turning them into cannibals, people sailing canoes across the sky and caged skeletons that haunted roads at night. It didn't take me long to realize Marvin was a gifted storyteller. His stories were a little scary, but that did not keep me from asking for a new one every time.

Even Harry liked his stories. He would listen in silence, sometime lighting himself a cigar. I had never seen Harry with a cigar until that summer, and the smoking took some getting used to. No one in my family smoked, and I had been told times and again of all the evils of smoking, yet I surprisingly got used to it. Eventually, and against my better judgement, I even came to appreciate the smell of cigars. Not the cheap ones some of their friends smoked, but the high-end quality ones Harry bought. He would only smoke cigars when he was particularly relaxed and in a good mood. I therefore came to associate the smell of cigar to a sense of security.

Marvin would sometime join Harry and have a cigar himself, but that was usually only on special occasions. Of all their bad habits, smoking was not one I picked up. Lucky me, I guess. I tried it at some point, Marvin never objected to me trying new things, but I didn't like the taste it left in my mouth. I don't mind the smell, but I never got used to the taste.

Holding on to the precepts my parents had thought me, I resisted the aroma of cigars, and would scold Harry for smoking.

"Smoking is bad for you." I told him, watching the smoke rise up in the night.

"Ah, look, Harry! The kid's worried about your health." Marvin mocked me.

"Smoking is bad for me? You know what's worse? Sugar. Speaking of which, how many marshmallows have you had, kid? That's enough for tonight." Harry declared getting a hold of the bag.

"Just another one, Marv ate the last two!" I argued, shooting Marvin a dirty look.

He just grinned back at me, unashamed.

"You snooze you loose, kid!

– Fine, but this is the _last one_." Harry warned me, handing me a marshmallow before putting the bag away.

I had every intention of savoring my last treat of the evening, and took care to grill it on all sides only half listening to Harry and Marvin's discussion.

"Hey kid, look over here." called Marvin just as my marshmallow was about to reach its crispy golden perfection.

He had used similar tricks to rob me of my last two marshmallows, and I wasn't about to fall for it again. I turned to tell him so, only to be blinded by a sudden flash of light as Marvin snapped a picture of me.

"Argh! Don't do that!" I cried, rubbing my eyes.

"Ah, come on, kid; it'll make a nice picture!"

I did not bother answering. I still did not care for his family album.

"You wanna put the camera away for a sec, Marv? Here" said Harry, handing him a box. "I didn't get you a cake, but I got you these instead. I know you'll appreciated them.

– Cubans cigars? Nice! Thanks Harry!

– Might as well, they're legal around here, and not half as hard to come by. So, you know, happy birthday.

– Today's your birthday?" I asked taken aback by this news.

Harry's birthday was in February, but my captors had been under too much pressure at the time to mark the occasion, or mention anything in my presence.

"Yeah it is." Marvin confirmed smiling to himself. "Kinda sucks to have your birthday on a Wednesday, but what can you do. Next year, August 28 will fall on a Friday, thank you leap year!"

My heart came to a stop. The 28? August 28? In the dark, neither Harry nor Marvin saw how still I had suddenly become. They kept on talking while my mind raced forward, processing the information.

"You're still spending tomorrow night at Mylène's, right?" Harry asked him.

"Oh yeah, she said she had something special planned.

– August 28?" I repeated, feeling myself growing cold despite the fire. "Today's the 28th?" I insisted, not caring about his date plans.

"Until midnight." lazily confirmed Marvin, lighting one of his new cigars."

Since my kidnapping, I had more or less lost track of time. Every day followed the next without anything feeling much different. I knew weekdays from weekends, thanks to my captors' work schedule, but I had not been paying attention to the dates.

Marvin's birthday was on August 28.

Mine was on August 26.

I had turned nine-years-old.

That's when it really struck me. For the first time, I became aware of the passage of time and its consequences. Despite how it sometimes felt, the clock had not stopped turning the moment Harry and Marvin had taken me. I would never celebrate another birthday with my loved ones, but that wouldn't stop me from growing up. I would age, get older, and so would my family.

This was a deeply disturbing thought.

"Kid, your marshmallow is burning." Marvin pointed out.

I looked at the melting lump of sugar and wanted to throw up. I threw the stick in the flames.

I wasn't hungry anymore.

 _AN: Most of Harry and Marvin's actions in this chapter, redecorating Kevin's room, touring the house with him before going to bed, cooking with him, etc. are based on advises given by adoption agency to help couples adopting older children. It's supposed to help with the bonding, so I thought it definitely applied to their situation._


	19. Chapter 18

_Hello dear readers!_

 _I started this chapter with three goals. I had my plan and everything laid out for me, and yet for some reason I have only been able to achieve one of these goals. Next chapter, Halloween! I am aware that I am behind schedule and will get to the Christmas chapter eventually. I already have lots of wicked ideas to make their first Christmas together special_

Chapter 18

I did not tell Harry and Marvin about my missed birthday. It was a sore subject onto itself, and I am still unsure what would've been less painful; having them ignore the issue, or being forced to celebrate the occasion with them.

There was also Harry to consider. I remembered the last time my birthday had come up in our conversation, and how he had insisted it was now linked to my new identity. I had no will to be dragged in another round of argument with him. So in the end, I held my tongue, and kept that knowledge to myself.

After that evening by the fire, I became accurately aware of the passage of days. September followed August; not that it meant anything anymore, there was no going back to school for me. I never thought I would one day prefer to go to school rather than watch television and play with my toys. Even after all these months spent at Harry and Marvin's side, I still hadn't got used to it. My time with them felt more like a break from reality, but, as I missed what should've been my first days in third grade, the truth of my situation started to sink in.

I also realized how far behind my classmates I was falling. I tried to compensate by making myself read the books I had on hand, but it was hard, and I could not see what I was meant to learn from mystery, or science fiction novels. I practiced my penmanship by writing down the alphabets and copying words from books; I invented random equations so as not to forget all about additions and subtraction, but even if I felt all of this was important, it was hard to stay motivated, especially when I had no way of correcting myself. I did not mention my attempt at an education to Harry and Marvin; they had made it clear they did not consider it a priority.

I was bored and much too idle for my own good. Almost without noticing it, I sought knowledge wherever I could find it. Television was one of the few links I had with the outside world. It became a source of information, entertainment, and yes, even education to a certain extent. I kept watching the French channels, and started to make real efforts at understanding the language. Harry might've disapproved, but he was gone most of the day, so I would sit and absorb my daily lessons in French.

I graduated from cartoons and went straight to afternoon soaps. Those were actually almost as easy to follow as cartoons; with all the dramatic close-ups, pauses and glares, I had no difficulty understanding who the good and bad guys were. Was I too young for that kind of trashy television? Probably. I had little interest in the storyline, but it did improve my vocabulary.

I eventually moved on to the news. That was more difficult. They didn't always have images to support what they were talking about, but I slowly began to make sense of it all. I could also check the English news later; they usually covered the same stories, so I was able to put it all together. My curriculum was unconventional and lacking in many departments, but it was all I could do to keep my brain from rotting away.

The days grew shorter. The weather got colder. Soon, the lake returned to its icy temperature and I could no longer go for a swim in the evening, or go outside without a jacket. On some level, I perceived this change in temperature as much more than the arrival of fall; it was the return of the cold season.

Winter.

And with it, Christmas.

I didn't want to think about that. I wasn't ready.

I grew agitated, and distracted. Even my Gameboy wasn't enough to keep a growing anxiety I could not, and would not, put into words at bay. Harry and Marvin did not comment on my behaviour. They weren't idiots and could count the days just as well as I did. We didn't discuss it. Any mention of the upcoming anniversary would've been sure to wreck what little ground Harry and Marvin had gained over the past weeks, so they let sleeping dogs lie.

The thing was, I was not the only one growing restless with each passing day, so was Marvin. At first, I assumed he missed his family, and hoped he would persuade Harry to move back to the States. I was giving him far too much credit; something else entirely was eating away at Marvin.

"Would you stop fidgeting? What is the matter with you?" Harry finally snapped at him one evening as they watched television.

"I'm bored, okay?

– Me too." I muttered from the living room floor where I was playing with my pocket watch.

I had taken to following the hands of the watch as round and round they went. I didn't know how to read time on a clock that wasn't digital, but I felt the seconds ticking away.

"You're bored? What do you want me to do about it? Go out, or something!" Harry told Marvin.

"Where? To the movies? Oh wait, they're closed on weeknights. I guess I could go to a bar, that is if I liked country music and line dancing. I know, how about playing the slots, or a game of poker, or Black Jack? Oh, that's right, there are no casinos for miles around!"

I looked up at Marvin, not used to hearing him being so sarcastic. I didn't say anything, but I thought he was complaining on a full stomach; I mean, _he_ was free to go wherever he wanted, wasn't he?

"You were never one to gamble." Harry countered. "You're the one who'd spent our Vegas weekend sightseeing. God only know why, you have the luck of the Irish.

– You know that's only cause I'm cheating; I wouldn't pull that shit in Vegas. Anyway, that's not the point. I like having the option."

"There's a bowling alley in town." I helpfully suggested, remembering an ad I had heard on the radio.

Marvin closed his eyes before answering me with the tense cheerfulness he would use whenever he was annoyed, but tried to conceal it.

"I'm not in the mood for bowling.

– But they have glow in the dark alleys." I insisted. "Sounds fun."

I waited for Marvin to take the hint, but my hopes to leave the house, even for just a few hours, were crushed by his next sentence:

"Bowling's not my thing, all right, kid?"

To tell the truth, bowling wasn't my thing either, but after months spent at the same location, even bowling would've been an outing I would've looked forward to.

"There's always the dart league in town." Harry informed him with a smirk.

"You mean the seniors' club? I'll pass. Why don't I join the bingo league, while I'm at it!

– Sure beats staying here." I muttered once again.

Harry briefly looked my way before getting back to Marvin.

"So the town's nightlife isn't up to your standards. We knew that when we chose the place. What's this really about?"

Marvin finished his bottle of beer before finally venting his frustration:

"When are we going to hit a few houses?

– Hit a few houses?" repeated Harry.

"Yeah, you know, get our hands on some new goodies. Spice things up.

– Didn't you get enough excitement last year?"

Marvin set his empty bottle of beer on the coffee table, and he sat back in the couch.

"That was different.

– Need I remind you that's what got us into this mess in the first place?"

I did not look at either of them as Harry said this. I wasn't sure how I felt about them robbing more houses. The point of my traps had been to protect my house, not to teach them a life lesson.

"You shouldn't steal." I found myself preaching, swaying the watch around, and playing with the light's reflections on the walls.

"Stealing is good for me, gets the blood pumping.

– You wanna be serious for a moment, Marv. Now is not the time to get into trouble." Harry reminded him.

Marvin went back to pretending to watch television, but that didn't last long.

"Remember that house? The one with the safe in the walk-in closet?

– Most useless thing." chuckled Harry. "Popped right open, and we barely touched the handle.

– There must've been what? Four, five grands in there?

– With the jewelry and marketable securities, a little over seven. It was a good day.

– Yeah…"

They were both quiet again, until Marvin casually added:

"You know, they don't even lock their doors around here."

I perked up at the news. Who didn't lock their doors? My mom always told me to make sure to lock the door behind me. If you didn't, then anyone could just walk in and take whatever they wanted! It then occurred to be that this could play in my favour next time I ran away.

I softly gasped at the thought, and quickly averted my eyes for fear Harry or Marvin would somehow guessed what I had been thinking. I buried the thought as best as I could to better examine later while their conversation went on uninterrupted.

"That's just a myth, Marv." Harry countered.

"Mylène doesn't lock her doors.

– You want to rob your girlfriend? You're a bona fide Romeo, you know that?

– What's that?" I interrupted.

"It means Marv isn't thinking clearly.

– I don't crap where I eat." Marvin asserted. "I'm just saying, we have an opportunity here.

– An opportunity? Did you take a look at the houses around here; not the most upscale of neighborhoods.

– You don't like the town? Forget the town! In fact, let's keep the town off-limits. What about cottages? There are tons of those around, and most of them are closed down for winter; no one would know they got robbed till spring."

I remembered the cottages my parents used to rent. I didn't see what could be of value in those places; the television sets were so old, most of them didn't get cable reception. There were no jewelry or electronics; why Marvin would want to waste his time over there was beyond me. I was thinking about rented cottages, hardly a peg over hotel rooms, not private properties. I had no idea the possibility those places offered, but my captors knew this all too well. They also knew the low risks associated with robbing cottages, which would be natural after the heap of trouble they got themselves into in Chicago. I could see that Harry was warming up to the idea, until his common sense took over.

"And where do we fence the stuff? I told you, I've got no contact around here."

Marvin shook his head:

"You're always so negative.

– Negative? Come on, Marv. Let's be smart here. No breaking-in.

– Never?" Marvin asked, clearly upset.

"I never said never, just not now, okay?"

When Marvin didn't answer, Harry insisted:

"Marv?

– Yeah, yeah, one model citizen coming right up.

– You're not the only one who misses it. This is just temporary" Harry assured him.

"Yeah, but for how long? I'm getting rusty here!

– You shouldn't steal." I could not help but repeat.

"Kid, don't meddle in things you don't understand." Marvin snapped back.

He didn't see how upsetting all this robbery talk was. I didn't like how they treated something that had screwed up my life so carelessly.

"If you find another boy, are you going to take him too?" I blurted out.

A deadly silence fell on the living room. Harry glared at Marvin. He didn't need to say anything; Marvin had painted himself into a corner and he knew it. Finally, Marvin laughed a nervous laugh.

"Course not, kid."

Typical Marvin; couldn't come up with a decent answer to save his life.

"Why?" I challenged him, fuming.

Harry and Marvin had never admitted it had been wrong to kidnap me, or apologized for it. If they hadn't done anything wrong, then what was stopping them from kidnapping another child? That way, I at least would've had a playmate, I reflected with a harsh cynicism that still surprises me to this day. I regretted the thought immediately. I didn't want anyone to go through what I had. When Marvin didn't answer right away, Harry's the one who cut-in:

"Cause _you_ are our kid. We don't need another one."

More like they wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

"That's right" awkwardly smiled Marvin "you're our one and only."

Their one and only.

In other words, an only child.

That was the only way I could rationalize it. By agreeing to keep me, Harry and Marvin had, in a way, made me an only child, a concept I wasn't too familiar with. Coming from a household of seven, it was quite an adaptation.

I missed my siblings. I always feel I have to remind myself I _do_ miss them every time I reflected on becoming an "only child". Although there were five of us, we didn't play with each other; my games were usually deemed too childish, or stupid, by my siblings. We hadn't had time to outgrow our bickering phase and bond, or at least that's what I keep telling myself. But they were my blood kin, which has to count for something, right?

When I was younger, Buzz used to play hide-and-seek with me, but that was before he became an adolescent, and got too cool to hang with his little brother. It took me a while to accept that Buzz wasn't interested in playing with me anymore, and only got the message when our hide-and-seek games turned into me hiding away for hours while he watched television. When I confronted him about it, Buzz had laughed in my face, resulting in me exploding with anger and being sent to my room. I learned my lesson the hard way.

I didn't hang with Megan or Linnie. Megan liked bossing me around way too much, and Linnie still played with her dolls. As for Jeff, we used to get along fine until he realized it was much funnier to dump on me like our older siblings did. He wasn't a teenager yet, but he sure liked to act like one, and followed Buzz's lead when it came to belittling me.

The way I remember my siblings always makes me sad. They say that over time, you're only supposed to remember the good and none of the bad. If that's true, then how come I remember all the times they made my life miserable so well? I wish I could hold on to some of the happier times. I remember missing them, and reflecting on how much I loved them during those days I was left home alone, but it's like I can't recapture the feeling, like the memory of our final exchange tainted everything else with bitterness and resentment.

I'll admit I was jealous of my siblings. They were safe back at home, while I had to deal with… all this. Sometimes I imagine how they would've handled Harry and Marvin. Would they have fared any better? To a degree, I felt, though not with such clarity that, had I been an only child, my parents never would've forgotten me.

And so here I was, "enjoying" some of the advantages of being an only child. I'll admit that it was not always so bad. When I spoke, I knew I was heard. I was lonely, yes, but on the other hand, I didn't have to share any of my toys. I had my own room, and could watch whatever I wanted on television whenever I felt like it, even in the middle of the night. There was always enough food, and I never had to fight with Harry or Marvin for the last bowl of cereals, taco or slice of pizza. I also didn't have to compete with anyone either, which was a bigger deal than it sounded.

Being the youngest of five, no matter what I did, chances were one of my siblings had beaten me to it. Buzz was strong and excelled in sports, Megan was popular and quick-witted, Linnie was beautiful and smart, and Jeff was creative and had a flair for business, just like our parents. Sticking out wasn't easy. Maybe that's why they say I acted up so much, though I don't remember acting up any more than my siblings did.

Harry and Marvin never had children around, and being their "one and only", it was easy to impress them. Spelling their names, remembering who was President and naming all the months of the year earned me good points and cookies.

My art projects were noticed, examined with care, and I was even asked about them. Harry has never been one to praise, but he would let Marvin put up my drawings on the refrigerator and he did say he liked a painted bowl I insisted was a mug. They surprisingly kept a boxful of my work over the years. Any drawing representing my family were quick to disappear, but my more colourful or interesting creations they kept; masks, feather collages, little sculptures, and pebbles I glued together. Marvin would marvel before the simplest of drawings, the kind my parents didn't even look at anymore, which I'll admit, pleased me.

Since they had no other children to contend with, little things my parents might've missed captured their attention. That's how Harry was able to deduce I didn't know how to read time without me saying anything about it. After cursing the failings of our education system, he sat me down and took care of it. He helped me identify the different handles on my watch and their functions. To complicate matters, my pocket watch used roman numerals, so he went over those as well. He drew clocks with handles in various positions, so that I might practice. At first, he used all the numbers, then slowly, only the quarters, until I could read time using only the positions of the handles without any other indicators.

It wasn't school, and it wasn't exactly fun, but I was learning something new and useful and I applied myself to it. I also knew all my siblings had digital watches, so if not for Harry, I'm not sure I ever would've learned to read time. It just wasn't the sort of thing my parents troubled themselves with.

Harry was all about business. He didn't play with me, I'm not even sure he knew how to play, but Marvin did. A lot more than my real dad, to be honest. Unlike my father, Marvin didn't have a high profile job and didn't have to manage his time between his wife and five kids. Marvin never refused to play with me, even when he was tired from a day at work. If I felt like racing around the backyard, he'd partake and let me win. When he raked the leaves, he'd jump on the pile with me, even if it meant more work for him afterwards. He's the one who introduced pizza night and scary movies on Fridays evenings. He would make absurd comments throughout the movie, or narrate with such a funny voice, it was near impossible for me to get too scared.

In many ways, I think playing with me offered Marvin a distraction from the stress of our situation. The lines between us often blurred while we played, but never disappeared entirely. Some games were off the table, like hide-and-seek, and roughhousing. Marvin refused to lose sight of me, even as part of a game, and the few times he tried to push, shove me around or jump on me, no matter how playfully, I would freeze on the spot, not knowing how to respond.

I knew how to roughhouse; my brothers and I would sometimes let off steam this way, but these would-be fights were now far too reminiscent of the very real fear my captors inspired for me to take any pleasure in them.

No matter, Marvin had plenty of other games and tricks up his sleeves, sometimes literally. One of the most enduring, not to mention useful, skill he ever taught me started off as a game. I suppose I have his boredom to thank for adding this string to my bow.

Here I was, working on the exercises Harry had left for me, minding my own business, while Marvin watched television. I could tell how bored he was by the way he kept flipping through the channels without settling on one for more than a few seconds. It was sort of distracting, but I went back to studying my drawn clocks. This latest series of exercises was tricky; Harry had used roman numerals and I kept mixing up all the "I" I had to add or subtract before and after "V" or "X". I would consult my pocket watch once in a while as a reference.

I had just started a new series when I realized my pocket watch was gone! It was no longer on the coffee table where I had left it a moment ago. I looked on the ground, under the television guide, and even patted my pockets, but no watch! Puzzled and feeling my frustration build, I turned around and saw it dangling off Marvin's fingers.

"Hey!

– Missing something?" Marvin grinned.

Ignoring his amusement, I took my watch back and set it on the table to concentrate on my work. No more than a minute had passed before Marvin asked me:

"Hey kid, what time is it?"

To give time when asked was also a part of my lesson, but when I lowered my eyes to the table, I realized that my watch had, yet again, disappeared. Growing frustrated, I turned over to Marvin who, no surprises, was playing with it.

"That's not funny!

– You're right, you keep this up, and you might lose it." Marvin told me lightly.

Holding on to my watch had not been Marvin's intention, and he returned it without hesitation. No longer trusting Marvin, I pocketed my watch and tried to focus on my last remaining exercises; Harry had told me he'd take a look at them after dinner. If only Marvin would stop whistling… First thing I knew, I glanced his way only to discover that my pocket watch had, once again, found its way into Marvin's hands.

This time, instead of getting angry at him, I was intrigued. I knew I had put my watch in my pocket, and yet Marvin had managed to spirit it away without me noticing, or feeling a thing. I could not even tell when he had got close enough to take the watch from me.

"How'd you do that?

– It's all about speed, kid; all about speed.

– You're a magician?"

My friend Mitch had had a magician over at his last birthday party and the guy could make all kinds of stuff move around, appear and disappear. Marvin was all too willing to play along.

"Something like that.

– Can you show me?"

He hesitated, if only for a second, before drawing me closer, as if sharing a secret.

"Sure, kid! Now listen closely. You gotta be quick to master this sleight of hand, but most of all, you gotta know how to read people.

– Read people?

– Magic tricks work best when people don't know you're doing anything at all. Distraction is key. Anything'll do; television, the movies, people talking together, looking at maps, or window shopping. The more distracted they are, the easier they'll be to prey on. And if there aren't any distractions, you can always create one."

I listened to Marvin without realizing what he was talking about. It sounded like reasonable advice when it came to magic tricks and was only trying to amuse myself. Again and again, I would put my watch in one of my pockets, and Marvin would find a way to fish it out without me being the wiser. Sitting down, standing up, walking around, it didn't make a difference. Even if I knew what was coming, I could never catch Marvin in the act.

"You're too fast! I can't see. Do it again so I can see!" I begged.

"Watch carefully. Lifting off a watch, or anything is almost like hunting." he explained walking slowly over me. "You take a step, watch if your target is alert to your presence. You take another step till you got them right where you want them and bam! The watch is now yours."

Again I had missed the trick. Marvin had barely brushed against me in a movement that would've been lost on a crowded street.

"You gotta know what to look for." Marvin repeated patiently. "There are tons of tricks, that's just one of them, but it all comes down to distractions. Like right now" he said, pointing with his left hand at one my pockets. "I know you hid your watch in there.

– Nah han!" I smiled triumphantly I had hid the watch in my other pocket this time.

"You sure about that?" Marvin asked as he presented me with my watch, which he held in his right hand.

I had to admit Marvin was impressive.

"Did you see how I distracted you?" Marvin explained. "I used my first hand to get your attention and drive it away from what my other hand was doing. By pointing this way, I also shielded my hand from your view."

How clever! I couldn't believe how quick he was, and immediately knew this was a skill I wanted to acquire.

"You can do that to anyone?

– Well, not anyone. The _right_ one." Marvin corrected me. "Some people are more aware of their surroundings than others, you gotta watch out for them. Luckily, most folks have a very small attention spans. Learn to take advantage of that, and you can make a decent living."

– I want to try! Can I try?

– Sure, let's see it!"

That's how my career as a professional pickpocket was launched, and I didn't even know what a pickpocket was! I only saw it as a cool magic trick, and I loved learning from Marvin. It felt like a behind the scene exclusivity.

I have no idea what Marvin was thinking, showing me that stuff. Knowing what would follow in a few years, it might be easy for me to assume Marvin was training me to take me under his wing, but I don't think he ever meant for me to use those tricks in public. That didn't stop him from taking our lessons to heart. Marvin was not only patient, he clearly enjoyed teaching me; he didn't discourage me by being too critical and would guide me step by step until I had a few routines down.

For a while, practicing various sleights of hand with him became my favourite game, and I would challenge him every evening. Marvin graciously let me get away with most of his belonging without catching me, even if I probably sucked, and only slowly began correcting me. He also gave me coins so that I might work on improving my dexterity while he was away during the day.

It took time, but after a couple of weeks, I grew more and more confident in my new skills. Marvin gradually increased the difficulty level, and showed how resourceful he could be by incorporating small bells in our act to further improve my speed.

"Why'd you get those?" Harry asked him when Marvin first showed me the bells.

"It's for our magic trick!" I naively explained.

"Magic trick? Where did _you_ pick up magic tricks?" Harry asked Marvin suspiciously.

"Oh, you know, here and there… It amuses the kid."

Harry shook his head, and most likely forgot all about it. The fact Marvin had not involved him in his shenanigans from the get-go proved how trivial he considered the whole matter. Marvin really should've known better.

I was much more interested to see how the bells would be used. Marvin had bought a dozen and I flicked each of them, cheerfully testing their jiggle.

"Enjoy the sound of those bells while you can, kid, cause you'll hate in a minute." Marvin warned me as he finished tying bells to his pockets, shirt and coat. "You want to become and fast as I am," Marvin asked as I watched him with curiosity. "try and fetch my wallet without tickling any bells."

Now that was a challenge! As Marvin predicted, I came to hate the gentle tickling of bells signaling each of my missteps. I tried and tried, but there was no escaping the bells. Far from discouraging me, I worked twice as hard. It was no easy game, but this was one I was determined to win.

Soon, I no longer restricted my training to our evening sessions and would try to sneak up on Marvin to steal his wallet away. My attempts only amused Marvin who never reprimanded me. I would whisk his wallet away, he would get my watch; the game could go on forever. It was amusing, but it also meant that Marvin came to expect my move and was constantly on his guard. It led me to wonder if I could really get away with it on an unsuspecting victim. That's when I turned my attention to the only person in my vicinity that was not aware of our ongoing game: Harry.

From that moment, Harry became my prey. I wanted my magic trick to be perfect and so I watched him, trying to choose a moment to make my move. Getting to Harry was harder than Marvin; most of the time, he would keep his wallet in his room, except when he was about to go out, or came back from town, which provided me with a very small window of opportunity.

I was so focussed on proving myself I did not stop to consider what a poor sense of humour Harry had where I was concerned. Most importantly, I might've been studying Harry, but I underestimated how closely he was watching me.

One evening, I took my shot while Harry and Marvin were unpacking the groceries. I was walking around the two of them, purposefully chatting about some report I had seen on the discovery channel. I knew Harry would not be listening as he decided what ingredients he would need for the evening's dinner. At some point, I stood in his way and let him bump into me. In a matter of seconds, my hand dove in Harry's pocket, found his wallet and simply let it slide out as he stepped back.

"Jeez, kid; get out of the way." Harry growled as I hid his wallet up the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

For a millisecond, I thought I had it. I seriously thought I would get away with it undetected. I could taste victory and was already imagining Marvin's praises when I felt Harry's hand coil around my arm and was almost jerked me off my feet as he pulled be back.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he hissed as he ripped his wallet away from me.

I had not expected Harry to be so angry, and knew instantly I had done something wrong. Thankfully Marvin was just a few feet away.

"What happened?

– You won't believe this, the kid just tried to steal my wallet!

– I wasn't stealing; I was practicing my magic trick!" I protested, looking to Marvin for protection.

"Your what?" Harry asked in disbelief as Marvin winced:

"Damn it, kid. You practice that stuff with me, not Harry!"

Harry's grip eased on my arm as he looked at Marvin.

"You taught him how to pick pockets? Marv… What are you playing at?"

Marvin grinned sheepishly.

"I got bored…

– You got bored? And you thought it wise, to show him _that_ kind of trick?"

– It's a harmless game. The kid's a natural.

– Why am I _not_ surprised? You know as well as I do what this kid is capable of, and now you want to teach him how to pick pockets?

– It's a magic trick!" I objected, trying to pull myself free of his grip, but Harry held on.

"What's the worst he could do? Steal your wallet? Then what?" argued Marvin, looking worried for the first time.

"What's the worst he could do? Oh, I don't know; how about getting our keys instead of our wallets? Think of how useful it'll be next time he decides to run away."

I felt my stomach tie into knots as Harry said that. I was still hoping to find a way out of this new life. I didn't have a plan or anything, but the idea of running away was never far from my mind. Had I tried to escape, I would not have known where to run to, but I liked imagining giving my captors the slip. With all that free time on my hands, what else did I have to think about? But those were just that, thoughts. Nothing I could act on, even if I'd wanted to.

"Don't say that, Harry. The kid learned his lesson. He won't run." Marvin protested.

But noting his closed expression as he said this made me realize how little Marvin believed his own words.

"Don't be so gullible, Marv. We both know the kid's just biding his time, aren't you?" Harry said, casting me an appraising look.

"No!" I replied in alarm.

"Do we need to have another conversation about running away?"

I felt myself go pale and shook my head in fright.

"Harry, that's enough!" intervened Marvin.

He stepped between Harry and I, forcing his partner to let go of me. I breathed easier, and was careful to remain behind Marvin.

"I got everything under control, it's just a game.

– You call picking pockets "just a game"?

– Until you said otherwise, it was.

– I won't take your wallet again. Or your keys." I said shyly from behind Marvin.

Harry scoffed at my attempt at an apology.

"You'll never be quick enough to pull it off anyway."

There was a strange gleam in Harry's eyes as he said this, but all I could hear was the stung of the insult.

"Look, I get the kid caught you by surprise, but he didn't mean any harm. How about you let him show you what he's capable of?" suggested Marvin. "It'll put your mind at ease."

I wasn't sure it was such a good idea. Under Harry's stern gaze, I lost my nerves, and it took some encouragements from Marvin to persuade me to perform the tricks I knew so well. Although Marvin asked me to re-enact the sleights of hand I was most comfortable with, I made more mistakes than I usually would have.

Arms crossed, Harry followed my act without interrupting. After repeating my routines to Marvin's satisfaction, Harry finally spoke:

"His footwork needs serious work, and he stares too much at his target, it betrays his intentions. Make him work on that."

Marvin acted as if Harry had just paid me some great compliment and became all smiles.

"See. I told you the kid was good.

– He has potential." Harry conceded.

For some reason, I didn't take much pride in Harry's last comment. From his and Marvin's exchange, I had gathered that those sleights of hand that had amused me so had little to do with magic tricks. They were more, so much more; a weapon of a sort that, once mastered, could be used to escape. This notion, if nothing else, provided me with a great motivation to surpass myself.

I guess I should've stopped and wondered why Harry had not objected to this dangerous game. On that day, he took a gamble, and it would pay off. If I saw a chance at salvation in those sleights of hands, Harry saw way beyond their practical uses. When the time came, when he got me in the right frame of mind, Harry turned what had started as game into a chain to better secure their hold on me.


	20. Chapter 19

_Happy New Year everyone!_

 _Gosh, I have to say that this chapter did NOT go according to plan! No to say I don't like how it turned out, but that was not the original plan. It is kinda amusing to see that no matter how much I plan my chapters, the story will just take on a life of its own._

 _I apologize for the long wait. I must confess I have been very, very bad. I wanted to focus on this chapter, I swear! But for some reason, I just started working on something else. Something that had been on my mind since this summer and that I had refused to listen. I'm talking about a series of scenes from Harry and Marv's point of view. If you're curious, you can have a look, I just posted the first scene under the title "No Monsters"._

 _But now, one with the story_

 _Enjoy!_

Chapter 19

When I came up for breakfast one morning, I suffered a mild choc upon discovering a landscape covered in white dust. No, not dust, _snow_.

The sun wasn't up yet, but the darkness of that morning was softened by a fresh coat of snow.

Instead of preparing my breakfast like I usually did, I stood before the patio doors and stared, my mind desperately wanting to deny what my eyes were seeing. It couldn't be winter. Not yet! It was too soon. The leaves on the tree hadn't even fallen! Upon closer inspection, I saw that the once golden leaves had turned a brownish colour and wilted on the nearby trees.

Harry was busy brewing his morning coffee and either did not care about the landscape, or had not been paying attention. He wasn't very talkative in the morning, but after a while, my unusual silence did get his attention.

"What are you looking at? Are the deer back, again?

– It's snowing."

I sensed Harry's presence behind me as he looked out the window himself.

"It's not snowing, it's just a little frost, that's all." He corrected me almost gently. "It'll melt. By noon, you won't even remember there was any snow.

– Is it winter already?

– No. We're just a few weeks into fall. Snow comes earlier around here.

– But winter is coming.

– Winter always follows fall." Harry stated firmly.

Perhaps sensing my distress at the delicate subject, he steered me toward the table.

"Forget about it, kid. Breakfast time."

To distract me, Harry made me a bowl of oatmeal with lots of brown sugar and a diced apple, just the way I liked it, but my eyes were still drawn outside. I didn't know it yet, but I didn't like winter anymore. To avoid becoming too emotional, I decided to focus on practical issues.

"Winter is coming.

– We covered that already, kid.

– I don't have a coat."

Or boots, gloves, a scarf, or hat. Last year, I remembered all too well how I had been confined to the house without any proper winter gear. But that had been back in Chicago. Harry was usually the one who bought my clothes.

"I know you don't." Harry answered as he scanned the front page of the morning paper.

– Will you get me one?"

– Will you behave?

– I behave!

– When you feel like it." Harry grumbled as he kept reading.

My deception must've shown because Harry ended up saying:

"You know I'll get you a coat. Now eat your breakfast.

– Can I have a red coat?

– You'll take what I'll get you." Harry impatiently replied.

"What are you getting the kid?" a yawning Marvin asked as he joined us in the kitchen.

"A winter coat.

– Harry's getting me a red one." I added maliciously.

"What did I just say about behaving?" Harry warned me, and I was smart enough to quit while I was ahead.

"That's nice." Marvin said, clearly not listening as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"By the way, Karen called last night. She wants you to call her back."

Marvin faintly groaned in response.

"What did she want?

– Like she'd tell me. You know there's only one reason she'd call."

Marvin didn't answer, and judging by his expression, I could tell he was in no hurry to call his sister back. Marvin's mother would call once in a while to keep in touch. She went about it with a lot of complaining, but she still wanted to hear from Marvin. Karen called to complain about their mother, about her job, about her kids, but she mostly called when she needed money.

While Marvin turned on the radio, his gaze must've wandered outside because the next thing he said was:

"Is that snow?

– No it's frost." Harry hissed back between his teeth.

Marvin must've still been half asleep because he missed his partner's tone and piled on:

"Already? Jeez, it's not even Halloween!"

Halloween.

As most kids my age, I loved Halloween. Dressing up, getting to stay up late, free candy and a spooky ambiance; what's not to like? I never missed Halloween. My family usually went picking pumpkins a week or so before Halloween; we would each bring one back and we would carve them together. Even Megan and Buzz, who claimed to be getting too old for this, still participated.

My mom always designed our costumes, no matter how busy she was. Last year, while so many of my classmates turned up dressed as Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, I had a lizard costume with a killer makeup design. It was pretty cool. All our costumes were homemade, but when your mother's a designer, it's a different game. Unlike "one size fit all" models sold in stores, our costumes perfectly fit, were detailed, not to mention unique.

I would usually go trick-or-treating with my siblings, although last year Jeff and Linnie had gone with their friends and Megan had stayed home to study, leaving me to go with Buzz. When he wasn't trying to scare me with various local legends that, for some reason, all involved disappearing little boys of about my age, he would eat my candy under the pretext of taking his cut. Still, not even my older brother could dampen the fun of Halloween.

"Do they even celebrate Halloween around here?" Harry asked, I suspect to steer the conversation away from the weather.

"Sure, Mylène said there's going to be activities for kids in town, and trick-or-treating later in the evening, though we shouldn't get any out here."

I already knew all this. I had watched adds on television advertising activities around the regions. There were haunted walks, tours of old cemeteries, corn mazes, terror trains, carved pumpkin field exhibitions and even a terror park located in an underground mine. It all sounded and looked so exiting! I wanted to go. I _needed_ to go and have some fun, just for an evening. I had meant to ask Marvin for days, but could not find the right moment to bring it up. And since they were on the subject…

"Will you take me trick-or-treating?" I asked with pleading eyes.

Either it was the coffee or my question that did it, but Marvin was suddenly wide awake, though he looked unsure of himself. As was usually the case in these situations, Harry took over the conversation.

"We're not going trick-or-treating." Turning back to Marvin, he added. "Your girl's not expecting to see you with the kid, is she?

– Nah" Marvin answered, biting in an apple without looking at me. "I told her the concept of Halloween goes against my heritage.

– Your heritage? What the hell are you talking about? You used to go trick-or-treating with Leo till you were both sixteen.

– Yeah, but she doesn't know that. It was the best reason I could come up with." After a second of reflection, Marvin added with a touch of amusement "I think it pissed her off."

I was not about to let myself get distracted by Marvin's talk of his girlfriend.

"Why can't I go?" I insisted.

Harry and Marvin never outright discussed my situation, not with me anyway, but I could not see why they wouldn't let me out on Halloween. It would be dark, I would be wearing a costume, I would not even object to a mask; no one would recognize me, especially not in Canada, so I could not see why I couldn't go. Again, Harry's the one who answered:

"Because we said so."

I had to fight back tears of frustration.

"Can we go see the carved pumpkin field?" I tried again.

It sounded like the most boring activity, but at this point, I was willing to take anything.

"Kid, I won't say it again, drop it.

– Not this year, alright?" added Marvin, sensing my disappointment.

"So you'll take me next year?

– We'll see."

But I could see by the look that passed between Harry and Marvin that they did not intend to let me go trick-or-treating next year, or the year after that.

A part of me wanted to fly in a fit of rage, and throw my bowl of oatmeal at them, but I knew screaming wouldn't get me anywhere except in trouble. I swallowed my insults and forced myself to eat my breakfast. I should've known to ask Marvin while Harry was away and could've kicked myself for the mistake.

This wasn't just about Halloween; it was about recapturing a normal life. As much as Harry and Marvin tried to pretend there wasn't anything wrong about our lifestyle, I wasn't blind. I had started to think and wonder what would happen to me. The future was still an abstract concept, I could not imagine further than a few months at the time, but I worried they would keep me locked up forever. I didn't ask them about it. I did not know how to ask. Like many touchy subjects, this was one I wasn't so keen to discuss.

What I did want to discuss was Halloween. I was determine to take part in the celebrations. I just needed to lay the proper groundwork for my request.

Later that day, I sat down to watch television in the basement. I usually chose to watch television down there whenever I practiced my French because Harry would get so annoyed every time he stumbled upon one of the French channels. Harry and Marvin didn't mind me staying in the basement on my own. I had nowhere to go in the basement. That's how I knew something was up as soon as I was joined by Harry. I tried my best to ignore him, but the hair on the back of my neck was prickling while I waited for Harry to say something.

Minutes went by and still, not a word. Not even a snippy comment about changing the channel. Watching him from the corner of my eye, I realized Harry wasn't paying attention to the television and seemed to be listening to something upstairs.

There was nothing and no one upstairs, save Marvin. That's when I realized he was most likely on the phone with his sister. Harry had come down to make sure I would stay put, wouldn't scream my head off, or let my presence be known. Unlike when Harry called Charlie, Marvin never spoke to his relatives in my presence. Our new house didn't have an office, and Marvin would take the call in Harry's room, usually after ousting me outside. I never heard the telephone ring; they had probably disabled the sound and let it go to voicemail.

Feeling reassured now that I understood why Harry was lurking about, I went back to my television show and put him out of my mind. Marvin's conversations with his sister never lasted very long. I could tell when he was done by the sound of his footsteps walking around over my head.

"I'm going to town, need anything?" Marvin called from upstairs.

"Are you still going to do the groceries? Got the list?

– Oh yeah, I forgot about that."

I could tell something was on Marvin's mind as he came downstairs and it didn't take long for Harry to put his finger right on the problem:

"So, how much are you sending the princess this time?

– Why are you so sure I'm sending her anything?" came Marvin's tense reply.

Both Harry and I knew I was not the only one he could not say no to.

"Cause I know you and you always cave.

– Well, we're in Canada. Money is the only way I can help." Marvin reasoned.

"What your sister needs is for someone to kick her off her ass."

Over the years, I would come to agree with Harry on this subject, though I would never say it to Marvin's face. He could be so touchy when it came to his sister.

"Give her a break, she's all alone.

– She's lazy, always was, and you know it. Your mother was alone too and she did just fine. Karen's just taking advantage of you. You have to be more careful with your money. With the exchange rate these days, you're losing big time.

– Look I won't be gone long." Marvin replied, getting annoyed.

"Marv, aren't you forgetting? It's Saturday. Banks are closed on the weekend."

I didn't look up and changed the channel. All this talk about money bored me. It was grown-up concerns, and I didn't care for it. I soon came across a news report in French about the town's mascot and stopped to listen. I liked that bear statue. I had only seen it once, but it was huge and I secretly wished I could've climbed on top of it. I wouldn't even mind if Marvin took a picture. I would not guarantee I would smile, but I wouldn't mind.

I was lost in my daydream when I heard Marvin growl under his breath:

"What the hell are they going about that stupid bear?"

Marvin was probably just talking aloud, but the answer flew out of my mouth before I had a chance to think it over:

"They're going to include Chimo on the list of official roadside attractions. It's a big deal around here, apparently."

Both Harry and Marvin looked at me.

"Chimo?" Harry repeated quizzically.

– That's the name of the bear. It means "welcome", or "friend", or something."

"How do you know that?" asked Marvin.

I shrugged. It wasn't the first time I'd heard that story.

"They've been talking about it over the news for a couple of days now.

– I didn't see that on the news." Harry slowly remarked.

"Oh, I guess only the French channels covered that story. It happens.

– You've been listening to the French channels again?" Harry frowned. "What did I tell you about that?"

Harry's reaction had me worried I might've got myself in trouble, but Marvin sounded delighted by the whole thing.

"You listen to the French channels?" he interrupted. "Enough to understand?"

Again, I shrugged.

"A little, I guess.

– Marv, don't encourage him."

But Marvin did not listen to Harry and he asked me with a smile of indulgence what my name was in French.

Figures that would the first question he'd ask.

Here I was, presented with the perfect pretext not to answer that dreaded question by pretending not to understand, but then Marvin cleverly added:

"I'll get you a surprise, if you get it right."

It was Marvin's fault, really. He just had to open the door to that possibility.

"What kind of surprise?

– How about a new toy? Or a new game for your Gameboy?"

I didn't want a new toy, or even a new game.

"Will you take me trick-or-treating?"

Marvin's smile faded away, while Harry smirked at him.

"You walked right into that one, Marv.

– Kid, we went over this." Marvin scolded me impatiently.

"You guys never take me anywhere! I wanna to go trick-or-treating!

– You give him an inch and he'll take a mile." Harry stated, unmoved.

I did not look at Harry and concentrated on Marvin. I knew that if I could change _his_ mind, there was I chance I might get to go out on Halloween.

"But I'll behave!" I pleaded again. "I'll hold your hand and everything!"

As a last resort, I crumbled and answered Marvin's question.

"My name is Kevin Merchants."

I even repeated the whole thing in French for good measure, but it did no good. Marvin wasn't interested in my language skills. Harry shook his head.

"See what all this French talk led to! I told you not to encourage him!"

– Please, please let me go trick-or-treating. I don't even have to go door-to-door; we could just go in town."

Pretending to be normal, just for an evening.

If anything, my pleading only rubbed Marvin the wrong way.

"That's enough, kid!" he barked at me. "We said no and I don't want to hear about it anymore!"

Marvin stormed out of the basement, leaving me with an unsympathetic Harry.

"Stop acting like such a spoiled brat, kid." he recommended. "Even Marvin has his limits." he told me before grabbing his grocery list and making his way upstairs.

A _spoiled_ brat! I felt anything but spoiled since I had landed with those two, and didn't think I deserved the insult. Tears rose to my eyes, but I held them back. I drew up my knees and rested my chin on them, trying to persuade myself missing Halloween wasn't such a terrible thing. There would be other occasions, right? Surely next year they would take me, I deluded myself into believing.

The television was still on, but I didn't listen to a word the reporter said anymore. All those people felt too remote from my reality for me to care. Harry left shortly afterwards, I supposed to go to the grocery store. I didn't know where Marvin was.

Marvin's anger didn't sit well with me. Harry was the grumpy one, not Marvin. I could always count on him to cheer me up and was disturbed by this reversal of roles. I didn't want him to be angry anymore. Surely a happy and laughing Marvin was preferable to an evening of trick-or-treating. It lasted longer. It goes to show just how confused I was by my own situation that I went back upstairs with the intention of apologizing to him.

Marvin was in the kitchen with his back turned to me. He was busy emptying the trash and was struggling with a new plastic bag, cursing at it. I might've found the scene amusing if his frustration had not been so palpable. I wanted to tell him he was holding the bag upside down, but given his mood, I feared getting my head bitten off. Looking away, I stayed there a moment, unsure how to break the awkward silent. That's when I noticed something unusual:

Harry's bedroom door was ajar.

Harry _never_ would've left it opened, and I instantly knew Marvin must've forgotten to close it after his upsetting discussing with his sister.

Harry's bedroom was unlocked.

I had never been in his room before, and for good reason… I looked at Marvin with worry, but he hadn't noticed my presence. I wasn't sure what to do, so my legs did the thinking for me and carried me tiptoeing over to Harry's room. I didn't want to get in trouble, but there wasn't any harm in me checking things out, was there?

I had my first true moment of hesitation on the bedroom's threshold. I knew Harry would be furious if he ever caught me stepping one toe in his room. Furious might be an understatement; those last hours in Chicago were still painful to remember. But Harry was away… and I wasn't contemplating trying to escape. I was just… curious. I wasn't doing anything wrong, I kept repeating to myself, even though I knew perfectly well why they wouldn't allow me in that room. My heart was beating loud as I listened closely to Marvin in the kitchen. It sounded like he had figured out how to open the plastic bag and slammed a cupboard door shut, nearly making me jump out of my skin. He was in such a foul mood, did I really want to make it worse?

But then I heard the patio door slide open and close and realized Marvin had gone to take the trash outside. He must've assumed I was still in the basement. And Harry's wasn't around… For a very rare instant, I found myself alone in the house and free to act. The temptation was too strong to resist. I forgot all about Marvin's anger and snuck in Harry's bedroom.

Harry wasn't really into decoration; the walls had not been painted were white. Unlike Marvin, Harry always made his bed in the morning and everything was neatly in place. His comforter was a plain taupe with a mismatched blue plaid blanket. Several pictures hung on the wall, some of them black and white and there was a book on his nightstand with loose change. I paid very little attention to all this. My eyes were instantly drawn to the telephone. It wasn't even hidden and sat with the answering machine on the dresser. The moment I laid eyes on the telephone, I knew what I wanted.

I wanted to go home.

I was overcome with such a desperate urge to put an end to all this, such hope, I felt like crying again. How did I ever forget about going home?

I crossed the room and I lifted the receiver to my ear with a trembling hand. The dial tone was strong and reassuring. I forgot all about Harry's warnings about Sid or Charlie and did what my parents always told me to do in case of emergency: I dialled 911. I was waiting anxiously for an operator to answer, only to be shocked when a recording informed me that this number was not in service. _Not in service!_ I almost screamed at the receiver. How could 911 _not_ be in service? Didn't they have 911 in Canada? How did they call the police, the firefighters or an ambulance?

I hung up and started to panic. I didn't know what to do anymore and picked up the phone again, this time dialing my home phone number, the only other number I knew by heart. There was unfortunately no way my parents ever could've foreseen this situation; I didn't know about area codes and international calls. I was therefore greeted once more by a recording advising me to dial 1 or 0 before the number followed by the dial tone.

I was so anxious to get through to anyone, I'm not sure I would've found the steadiness to comply with these instructions. In any case, my time was up, I didn't get a third chance. I never heard the patio door, or the sound of his footsteps in the hallway, I only heard his angry shout behind me as he burst in the room.

Marvin!

I dropped the telephone just as Marvin reached me, pulling me roughly against him; he muffled the sound of my protests with one hand, holding the receiver to his ear with the other. I saw short-lived relief flood his features as he was greeted by the dial tone, but his relief was soon replaced by anger, and he threw the receiver down, knocking it off its base.

He took his hand off my mouth, allowing one intake of breath.

"Marv, I'm sor-"

But Marvin wasn't interested in any of my excuses and he flung me out of Harry's room so hard I came crashing against the hallway wall and fell. Looking up at Marvin, I saw how furious he was, and was suddenly afraid he would strike me.

He slammed the bedroom door shut behind him as I scrambled back to my feet.

"In the basement, now!" Marvin ordered, grabbing me by the arm. "Just wait till Harry gets back and hears about this!"

Harry! The name struck me with such terror I almost threw up right there and then. The memory of the lashes he had given me last time I had disobeyed still haunted me. I had been caught red handed, and I knew Harry would show no mercy.

"Don't tell Harry!" I gasped with unconcealed fear.

"Oh, you don't mind messing with me, but Harry you're afraid of!" Marvin sneered back. "Looks like _he_ had the right idea on how to deal with you all along!"

His grip on my arm was painful, and I had difficulty keeping up with him as he dragged me down the stairs to the basement.

"Marv, please don't tell Harry! I'm sorry!"

Marvin didn't answer. He refused to look at me until we got in the basement. Never letting go, he shook me slightly, making me cower before him as he shouted:

"We were doing so well, kid. _Why_ would you do that?"

I saw nothing I could say would calm Marvin down, so instead of offering excuses, I voiced my inner-fear with resignation as my eyes filled with tears:

"You're never going to let me leave the house, are you?

– Leave the house? Is this cause we won't take you trick-or-treating?" Marvin asked in a low hiss.

"You said we'd move to make a new start, that we'd learn to be a family, but you _lied_!" I accused him, unable to hold back my tears any longer.

As usual, my crying unnerved Marvin who let go of me.

"Stop crying! You don't get to play that card! We've been way too easy on you lately; us, being a family, doesn't mean you get your way all the time!"

Harry and Marvin had this way of downplaying my fears and making them sound like childish whims. I'm not sure if it was because they never had children of their own, or a strategy to better control me, but it left me feeling helpless and ashamed of myself.

"I don't want to do this anymore!" I wailed through my tears. "I want things to go back the way they used to!"

That was the best way I could express my wish for a normal life. It wasn't very clear, even to my own ears, but Marvin was smart enough to put it together. I could see him struggling to get his anger under control.

"Kid, you have got to stop crying! Harry and me, we're trying very hard here."

They did try. Not that it excused anything, but I now see how much they tried. They couldn't do right by me, not really, but they did try in their own way.

"The last couple of months, they've been nice, haven't they? Didn't we have fun? Why would you want to ruin all that?"

Marvin had a knack for finding the right words to turn a situation on its head and throw me in confusion, especially when I was that young. He had calmed down and his almost gentle reproach hurt much more than his previous anger.

"I didn't want-

– Every time you misbehave, it shows us we can't trust you. It hurts us. We want to trust you so much; don't you want us to trust you?"

Trust.

Neither Harry nor Marvin had mentioned anything about trust since the day I had discovered my birth certificate. I however remembered how Harry had said they wouldn't lock me up once they could trust me. I wasn't sure how to accomplish that goal, but I imagined that when that day came, everything would be fine. Gasping for air through my tears, I nodded.

"What the three of us have is… special. We want to keep you safe and to do that, we have to keep you close for now, that's all.

– No!"

What Marvin said was all wrong! They had no interest in keeping me safe, but then I hesitated; Harry and Marvin had protected me from Sid and those bad people. They didn't like those bad people. Back in Chicago, hadn't they stayed with me to keep Sid away? Didn't Marvin used to wear his gun to keep me safe? What if Marvin was telling the truth? _Was_ I safer with them? I didn't know anymore. Marvin was making me confused again. I tried to clear my mind and retain some of my anger.

"You want to keep me here forever!" I accused him.

"Not forever. When you're older, it'll be better, you'll see.

– I _am_ older! I'm nine!" I replied with stubbornness, wiping my tears away.

This did seem to give Marvin pause.

"When did you turn nine?"

I wasn't sure I should tell him, but since Marvin didn't say anything about my birthday being on Christmas Eve, I sniffed back my last tears and confessed:

"Last August."

Marvin closed his eyes a moment before speaking again. He didn't linger on the details of my birthday. Maybe it was one of those things he didn't want to think about.

"Look, I know this is hard. Lots of things are different now, but you know we don't like to see you cry. You just have to trust us to make it better."

Not so long ago, I knew I never would've trusted Harry or Marvin, but things had changed. I didn't know anyone else in Canada. There _was_ no one else. Harry and Marvin were the only ones I could rely on to feed me, keep me safe and yes, make things better.

"You'll make it better? How?"

Marvin didn't have to wonder very long to find the perfect compromise:

"Next Halloween, I'll take you trick-or-treating. I'll get you a costume and we'll stay out as long as you like."

It was only later that the implication of still being at their mercy a year from now struck me as equally terrifying. At the time, I was willing and even grateful to hold on to the tiniest bit of hope they tossed my way.

"You promise?

– Only if you try real hard too; are you going to behave?"

I nodded again.

"Good. Now, about what happened today; you know you're not allowed in Harry's room, and I'll have to punish you for that."

I moaned in fear and drew back, to Marvin's annoyance.

"Stop crying! I won't tell Harry about it.

– You won't?

– No, but you're still punished."

I wasn't sure what to expect from Marvin. He looked at me very sternly and said:

"You're grounded.

– Grounded?"

How could I be more grounded than I already was? I wasn't sure how serious he was until he added:

"No Gameboy or toys. No television, no desserts or sweets till I say otherwise. You're going to go to your room and you will stay there until dinner, than straight to bed. If you disobey, I'll tell Harry and I'll let him find a better way to discipline you."

Back home, that punishment would've made me resent the whole world. In my anger, I would've said all kinds of nasty things I would've regretted later. After months spent at the bandits' side, I was only relieved to get away so lightly. Marvin helped me get cleaned up and washed away any traces of my tears. I then stayed quietly in my room, fearing Harry's return.

I was worrying over nothing; Marvin kept his promise and didn't breathe a word to Harry about what had transpired in his absence.

"The kid's going to bed right after he's eaten. He's grounded." was all he told Harry that night at dinner.

"Why, what happened?

– The kid talked back to me, and now he's grounded." Marvin lied.

"He talked back to you? What did I say about that?" Harry asked threateningly.

I could feel Harry's sharp eyes on me, and I repressed a nervous shiver. I wouldn't meet his gaze for fear of him somehow guessing the truth. Marvin surprisingly didn't let Harry bully me and put his foot down:

"Harry, _I_ 'm handling this. The kid shouldn't think I have to wait for you to punish him."

Harry couldn't very well argue with that kind of logic, so my secret was safe.

I know for a fact Marvin never shared the details of that afternoon with Harry, I would've received a proper beating if he had, but Harry had a nose to flair out conspiracies. He didn't add to my punishment, or questioned me about it. Harry had other, more subtle means to instill fear in me.

And he chose Halloween to play his hand.

My punishment lasted well over two weeks, with no interference from Harry. I endured it with no complaints, at least not within Harry or Marvin's earshot. Even I knew being bored was much preferable to getting a beating, but the days sure were long. The only things Marvin left me were books. Out of boredom, I developed a newfound respect for reading. Some of these books, I came to acknowledge, were not so bad. While exploring the pile I had, I found a worn out copy of White Fang, which is still one of my all times favorite novels.

There was no more talk of the upcoming Halloween or trick-or-treating, which is why I was pleasantly surprised when Marvin brought back a pumpkin just a few days before the holiday. And from the looks if it, I suspect he bought the biggest one he could find.

"Just because we don't go trick-or-treating doesn't mean we can't carve a pumpkin, isn't that right, kid?"

That was his way of making peace with me. It wasn't much, but I wasn't about to be difficult. Besides I could not pass the chance of gutting my very own pumpkin. Instead of the traditional grinning jack-o-lantern, Marvin helped me design a flaming skull I was quite proud of.

Harry did not altogether approve of this activity.

"And what are we supposed to do with this much pumpkin?

– I don't know, a pie?" Marvin suggested.

"I don't bake pies, Marv."

Or cake, cookies or pudding. Harry was a great cook, but he was no baker; my grandmother Penelope had him beat in that department hands down. She made the best pumpkin pies at Thanksgiving. The smell of sweet spices would fill the dining room, and we'd all have two pieces, even when we were full. The best dessert Harry could muster was banana bread with leftover bananas.

"How about muffins?" Marvin suggested. "We could freeze those.

– I can make risotto."

Harry still makes his pumpkin risotto every year. He won't make any from canned pumpkins, and so every fall we'd cook and freeze pumpkin pure, hoping to make it last till the end of January. That's one of the good things I still enjoy around Halloween, and alas, not the only way Harry decided to mark our first Halloween together; Harry was no fool, he could tell something had happened and had his own idea on how to make a point, with both Marvin and me.

He came home on Halloween night handing Marvin a bag:

"You rented horror movies?

– It _is_ Halloween, Marv. Everybody's entitled to one good scare, and since the kid can't go trick-or-treating, I bought him some candy.

– He's grounded, Harry. I said no sweets."

Marvin only gradually lifted my punishment. He had given me back my toys one by one, saving the Gameboy for last, and I was allowed some television in the evening, but sweets, especially ice cream were still off the table.

"Marv, that was almost three weeks ago, don't you think you're being a little harsh? It's not as if he did something _really_ bad, did he?" Harry asked almost sweetly.

Marvin looked annoyed at Harry, but didn't contradict him. That's how I should've known Harry was plotting something.

"Fine, he can have some candy, but not the whole bag!" Marvin begrudgingly agreed.

I didn't read too much into Harry's smile of satisfaction, I was too happily surprised by his generosity to question it.

"Here you go, kid. You heard Marv, you can pick some candy. We'll keep the rest for later."

Harry had brought a nice inventory for me to choose from; there were lollipops, bubble gum, skittles, sweetarts, chips and popcorn. I chose a bag of licorice and some gummies. It wasn't common for him to bring me presents, and I did appreciate it.

"Thanks, Harry!"

While I was rummaging through the bag of sweets, Marvin took a look at the movie selection Harry had brought back. One tape caught his attention:

"Misery?

– It's the new Stephen King adaptation. Should be good. The actress won an Oscar for that movie.

– I know, I just thought you'd go with The Shining.

"Another time, the video store didn't any copies of The Shining left, and Misery is a new release. I read the book a few years back, I'm sure the kid will find it… enlightening."

Harry's tone when he said this should've raised all kinds of red flags, but I was too busy chewing on a piece of licorice to really pay attention. Marvin was usually the one who rented horror movies and I was curious to see what kind of movie Harry had selected.

With a title like Misery, I didn't know what to expect. Was it a monster movie? A slasher? The title didn't give away much, and sounded like a sad romance rather than a horror film.

The first half an hour was pretty dull and I didn't really understand why Harry said it was a horror movie; there were no ghosts, vampires, zombies or serial killers lurking about like in the other movies Marvin would rent. I did get a little worried when the man drove his car off a cliff and expected to see him being hunted down by some monsters and fight for his life through a snow storm, but he was quickly saved by a kind and gentle nurse.

Nothing scary there!

This movie was, dare I say, even a little boring, until it suddenly got scary as hell. Not in the way I expected. Not in a way scary movies usually worked. This one was different. I watched with unease how this sweet nurse turned into a raving lunatic and grew cold as it became apparent she now held the helpless man captive in her house.

I didn't like this movie. I didn't want to watch it anymore. Its subject matter hit much too close to home for me to enjoy. I was no author, Harry and Marvin were not insane, but I could not help drawing resemblance with my own situation.

Marvin, who would usually made fun of b-movie villains, was too captivated by the story unfolding on screen to make his goofy jokes. I didn't look at Harry. I had a feeling he was watching me as much as the movie.

None of us spoke. I prayed the man would find a way to escape and silently cheered when he devised a key for his lock, stashed his drugs and hid a kitchen knife under his mattress. His plan was ingenious, carefully planned, yet in the end, it made no difference, he was caught by his captor and restrain to his bed.

What followed next must've been one of the most gruesome scenes I had ever watched on television. I still can't stomach it to this day. Give me gore, give me blood, give me a Tommy gun, or even a chainsaw, but not _that_ scene.

What was more terrifying? The woman's affected concern and almost loving tone as she said the most terrifying things? The twinkle of insanity in her eyes? The eerie Moonlight Sonata playing in the background? This was a new level of horror I had not been prepared for.

I saw the nurse place a piece of wood between the tied man's ankles without understanding what this was about. Even when she explained about the runaway workers and the hobbling operation, I still didn't understand where she was going with this. I then saw her lift a sledgehammer and I knew I didn't want to see what would follow, but could not tear my eyes away from the screen. I watched, horrified, as the crazy woman took the sledgehammer down, how the man's anklebone bent and broke under the force of the blow. I took my hand to my ears to block out the man's howls of pain, but I could practically feel the blow in my bones.

I whimpered as I watched the woman walk on the other side of her captive's bed, not believing my eyes or my ears as she called him her "darling". She lifted the sledgehammer once more, and I couldn't take it. I flee to my room just as Marvin had the good sense to close the television.

"Harry, what the hell!" I heard him furiously curse as I buried myself under my blankets.

"Don't yell at me, that part wasn't in the book!" Harry protested.

Harry wasn't lying; I would read that book years later and found out that crazy nurse hadn't broken her captive's ankles to keep him from escaping.

She had cut his foot off with an axe.

I might've only been nine, but I could read between the lines.

Harry's unspoken threat was not lost on me.

 _Author's note:_

 _When I first set out to write this chapter, Kevin wasn't supposed to dial 911. He was supposed to call home. But then I thought I wouldn't make sense for him not to try the police. It got me wondering about the implementation of 911 in Canada._

 _We do have 911 and, just to be clear, I know major cities such as Montreal and Toronto had implemented that number in the 80s, but it wasn't available everywhere across Canada until much later._

 _When I was a child, I also recalled my parents telling me to memorize this "new" number very carefully if I ever got in trouble. So I started to do so digging to see when 911 was implemented across the country._

 _While researching this chapter and talking to some of my colleagues about their children and how they respond to 911 (I have two colleagues with children of Kevin's age, so I ask them all kinds of question about their development. Their input has been very useful since the beginning of this story). One day, I was thinking out loud, wondering when 911 replaced the regional police phone numbers, when another colleague of mine turned to us and answered: "1992."_

 _When I asked her how she knew that, she explained that, back when she was a student, she had been hired to work on a wider implementation of 911 across Canada, and that was back in the summer of 1992. What were the odds! I learn new things every day! She even showed me the communication she wrote about it (her very first "internal" email)._

 _All this to say that in 1991, Kevin would not have been able to call 911 in this remote little town._


	21. Chapter 20

_Hello everybody!_

 _So sorry for the long wait! I worked extra hard over the last month, I even took time off work to work just to write. Before you get into this chapter, you should however know this isn't the promised Christmas chapter. It was supposed to, but as usual I have underestimated the amount of writing required to lead to the Christmas chapter. My plan alone was six pages long, which should've been my first clue. Anyway, this is the first of three "holiday" chapters._

 _Enjoy!_

Chapter 20

Christmas was coming.

Even as isolated as I was from the rest of society, I could not ignore the looming holiday season. I tried not to think about it, to focus on anything else, but it was impossible. It was only when I decided to renounce Christmas that I realized how hard it was to escape it.

It wasn't just about snow, which, as Harry had predicted, had been fallen steadily since early November, it was everywhere. It was on the radio that was blaring Christmas songs; it was on television with its Christmas specials. I could not look out the window without being greeted by the Christmas lights that were lit all around the lake.

Christmas was in the air, whether I liked it or not.

I had hoped the French channels would provide a much needed escape, only to realize that Christmas permeated all languages. All the classic Christmas songs I knew so well had a French equivalent; Jiggle Bells, White Christmas, Let it Snow, the Twelve Days of Christmas, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, even freaking Rocking Around the Christmas Tree! It was disgusting.

Thanksgiving had gone by unnoticed. Either it had been conveniently ignored by my captors, or forgotten, I can't say which. Then again, Thanksgiving had been easy to ignore in Canada, with them celebrating it much earlier in the year, but Christmas was another monster altogether.

After having fought to celebrate Halloween, I wanted nothing more than to forget about Christmas. Christmas wasn't like Halloween. It wasn't just any other holiday marked on the calendar; it was _Christmas_ , the one true holiday all about warmth, love and family. I wasn't sure how to reconcile this with Harry and Marvin's version of family. For the past year, I had been thrust into a new kind of family, one where blind trust and loyalty were required of me, but where hugs were rare. I didn't need a reminder of that.

The holiday season would've been hard enough on its own, had it not also marked the anniversary of my kidnapping. Any other day might've been swept under the rug and gone unmarked, but Christmas served as a painful reminder of everything I had lost.

The holiday season is still a difficult time of the year for me. I wish we could just skip it. I never meant to grow up and become some kind of Grinch; I hate Christmas because I love it in way that hurts. As there is no simple cure for my pain, I'd rather just forget about it.

On that holiday season of 1991, Christmas was everywhere.

Everywhere, except in our house, that was.

When Harry and Marvin had taken me back to their house in Chicago, I had been much too frightened to really take-in my surroundings. I had therefore not given much thought to the absence of decorations around the house. There had been no Christmas wreath on the door, no socks hanging on the mantle, no nutcrackers standing on guard, no lights outside, or a single poinsettia. As for the Christmas tree, it had been conspicuous by its absence.

Harry and Marvin did not celebrate Christmas.

Until I came along, Christmas had meant little more than a season of empty houses for them to loot. Just like my birthday, I was not sure what I expected of them on our first Christmas together. I don't think they had any clue either. So, like Harry and Marvin, I decided to take it one day at the time.

With the holidays in the air, I was in desperate need of a distraction. I needed something to occupy my mind and, for once, Harry and Marvin agreed with me. As usual, Harry did not seek to entertain me, but he built bird feeders and set them up in the backyard. He found me a book on birds so that I could identify them as I watched from the kitchen.

As for Marvin, after realizing I understood some French, he surprisingly decided to encourage my learning. He would point to various objects around the house and on television, making me learn and remember their French equivalent. Marvin eventually started talking to me in French, testing the limits of my comprehension and expanding my vocabulary.

To be honest, I don't think he was exactly fluent in French, but he was at a much more advanced level than I was, that's for sure. After a few weeks, we could carry short but entire conversations in the foreign language.

Marvin must've mentioned it to his girlfriend, or whatever the Blanchard woman was to him, because she gave him children's books in French for me to read. I read them slowly, picking up on the vocabulary. Some words did not look so different in French than they did in English, so I could guess their meaning. Since those books were pretty simple, Marvin had no difficulty explaining what I did not understand.

I also got my promised winter coat. Maybe Harry was feeling a bit guilty for the fright he had given me on Halloween because he went all the way to the city, to find me a red one. He bought me a deep red and black parka with snow pants. The pants were too long, but not enough to trip me.

The cold season was a bit harsher than the one we had back in Chicago. To Harry and Marvin's chagrin, it did not keep me from wanting to go outside. By then, they knew how much I needed to spend my energy and would therefore take me outside, except on the coldest of days. I'll admit it must've been a drag for them, especially at the end of the day. By the time they got home from work, it was already dark with the temperature dropping fast. They would still get dressed and take me for a stroll around, let me play in the snow until dinner, or enrolled my help in shoveling the driveway.

Marvin helped me built a fort in the backyard and we would sometimes have snowball fights, while Harry watched from the side. Over the weekends, they would take me for walks in ski-doo paths, or sliding down the now snowy sand pits.

The area was not as remote as their house in Chicago had been and, as careful as Harry and Marvin were, we did cross path with some of our immediate neighbors out in the trails. It didn't happen very often, but every time, I would remember both Harry's warning and Marvin's promise. I chose to focus on Marvin's promise; he had said that things would get better if only I tried, so I did. I never screamed, or ran toward those strangers. I would stay close to Harry, or would seek Marvin's hand whenever someone came into view.

Those brief contacts with strangers never lasted long; a second or two to exchange friendly greetings. No matter how short the interaction, I could feel Harry and Marvin's tension skyrocket every time. They did not comment on my good behaviour, but I knew they were taking notes of my reaction. Building that trust was going to take time, but the fact that they kept taking me outside even after those encounters told me I might finally be doing something right.

Walking down the main road made it hard for me not to notice all the Christmas decorations. I tried to ignore it all, but my gaze was drawn to red bows, to pots filled with evergreens and ornaments, and to Christmas trees displayed in windows. I don't like reminders of the holidays, but Christmas trees have a unique majesty that still stir my nostalgia to this day. Without giving it much thought, I started to inspect the firs in the area, gauging which one I liked and imagining how I would decorate another. It was almost December, and although I did not know how to spend Christmas at Harry and Marvin's side, there was never any doubt in my mind that we would have a Christmas tree.

My family and I usually decorated our Christmas tree around mi-December, but with all this snow, I expected Harry and Marvin to take a cue from our neighbors and get our tree much sooner.

One day, while out on our daily walk, Marvin caught me examining a tree. Misunderstanding my interest he challenged me playfully:

"Can you tell me what a fir is in French?"

While I searched for the answer, I saw Harry roll his eyes. If someone did not appreciate my language skills, it was him. For some reason, French never caught on with Harry. He didn't like it when Marvin and I spoke French. Maybe he felt like we were plotting against him or something, but he would always snap at us to speak English.

Ignoring Harry's disapproval of my French lesson, I gave my answer, earning a smile from Marvin.

"You are such a fast learner!" he remarked.

Well, when you're bored and only have one subject to focus on, you pick up fast. Skipping ahead of them, I resumed my inspection of fir trees. Many of them were too tall or too narrow to make nice Christmas trees.

"Why do you do that?" I heard Harry ask Marvin.

"Do what?

– Teach the kid French. You know it's a waste of time, he'll never use it."

My heart sank when Harry said that. Perhaps unconsciously I had been learning French so that when they'd take me out, I could understand and speak to everybody.

"Who says he'll never use it? He wants to learn, let him.

– I still say it's a bad idea.

– That's just your excuse for not learning French." Marvin teased him.

"French doesn't make sense!" Harry snapped back, telling me that Marvin was not far off the mark.

"And Italian does?

– Do _not_ compare French to Italian!"

For all the years they had known each other, Marvin had never learned a word of Italian, which always struck me as strange. Lifting my eyes to the sky to better estimate the height of the tree before me, I called to Harry:

"Hey Harry, how do you call a fir in Italian?"

I did not look at him and kept circling the tree, but I could sense Harry's gaze on me.

"Why do you wanna know?"

Truth was, there was no reason in particular; it was just one of the hundreds of questions that randomly popped into my mind.

"Why not? So, what is it?"

Harry stayed silent. I thought for sure he wouldn't answer, until I heard him begrudgingly give me the word. I didn't quite catch it at first; to my untrained ears, it didn't sound anything like English or French. I gave it a try and repeated the word back to Harry.

"You're saying it wrong." he declared crossly.

I however did not need to ask him to repeat himself; Harry said the word again, this time enunciating every syllable. I repeated it, again and again, with Harry correcting my pronunciation every time. I didn't let that discourage me and persevered until Harry was satisfied. How strange it was to know three different ways to say the same thing. I repeated the word fir in English, French and Italian. This was kinda cool! I then pointed to a squirrel and gave the word for it in French.

"How do you say squirrel in Italian?"

I had unknowingly found the perfect way to sooth Harry's ego. He pretended to be annoyed by my questions, but he still gave me the Italian word for everything I pointed to him. Marvin followed, smiling to himself. I think that he saw what I was doing long before Harry did. Our walk became a strange lesson with Marvin providing me with words in French, and Harry giving me their names in Italian. My head was soon filled with neat lists of words in English, French and Italian.

As we kept walking, we eventually saw the now familiar golden retriever of Marvin's girlfriend running in a field up ahead. That was our signal to turn around and head back to the house. Harry and Marvin could handle quick interactions with neighbors, but that did not apply to the Marvin's girlfriend. An official introduction would naturally lead to her wanting to get to know me and expect an invitation to our house, which was out of the question.

"I suppose you'll spend a couple of days with your girl?" Harry took this opportunity to ask Marvin.

"No, Mylène is leaving for the holidays to visit her relatives near Ottawa. She's leaving early on the 24th and won't be back till after New Year."

This told me that Marvin would be around for the holidays. I watched the dog run, carrying a stick in its mouth as Marvin's girlfriend pretended to chase it. How I missed having a dog. Our Chester was getting old, but he loved chasing his ball in the backyard and tugging on his rope. I wondered for the first time if Chester's presence would've been enough to keep Harry and Marvin away from our house. He was no Rottweiler, but he had a booming bark and I knew Harry didn't like dogs.

Noticing pine cones off the main road, I stopped to collect them.

"You've been picking up pine cones for days now, what are you going to do with them?" Marvin asked in curiosity after giving me the French term for pine cones.

"I'm going to make ornaments for the tree." I explained. "Harry, what's a pine cone in Italian?"

I didn't ponder Marvin's puzzled expression, concentrating on repeating the word Harry had just given me.

"What tree?" Marvin questioned with some hesitation.

"Marv, you know what tree." Harry responded, nudging him.

"Our Christmas tree." I nevertheless answered. "When are you going to get ours?"

Marvin had bought the pumpkin for Halloween. I assumed he'd be the one buying our Christmas tree as well.

"I'm getting a Christmas tree?"

Catching his nervous response, I was suddenly very worried Marvin would deny me a Christmas tree. This was Halloween all over again!

"You're not getting a Christmas tree?" I stated, dropping my pine cones.

"Christmas trees are not exactly traditional in my family, kid." he answered, looking over at Harry in search of an ally.

I assumed that was just one of his excuses. Not traditional? How could a Christmas tree not be traditional?

"Who doesn't like Christmas trees?" I spat, glaring at him accusingly.

My anger heightened Marvin's discomfort and Harry's amusement.

"Harry, how about you handle this one?

– Sure. Listen kid, Marv's Christmas tradition is usually limited to Chinese food." he volunteered with a smirk.

I did not understand what Harry meant. I just assumed he was making fun of Marvin's lack of culinary talent. The idea of not eating turkey for Christmas was strange, but then again, this was Marvin we were talking about. If I had to choose between having turkey or a Christmas tree, I knew what I wanted.

"I don't mind Chinese food. You mean you've never had a Christmas tree? Where did Santa leave your presents?

– Santa's just a lie to keep children in check." Marvin replied to Harry's hilarity. "Wait, you do know about Santa, don't you?" he asked in sudden alarm.

Funny how Marvin had no qualm about taking me away from my family, manipulating me, or threatening me, but was still worried about breaking the news to me about Santa.

Last year, some rumors had been going around in my class about Santa Claus not being real. Some of my classmates had been whispering that our parents were really the ones buying us presents and had made up the whole thing about Santa. I had refused to believe it. My parents wouldn't lie to me like that! Why would they? And it wasn't just my parents; didn't the news and television track Santa's progress every year on Christmas night? He had to be real. It wouldn't make sense otherwise. But those kids had instilled some doubt in my mind.

I had been determined to get to the bottom of this story and had gone straight to the one person I could count on to be brutally honest with me: Buzz.

"Of course Santa is real!" my brother had told me when I explained the reason for my trespassing in his room. "You know why those kids said Santa doesn't exist? Cause they know all they're getting for Christmas is coal!"

Well that made a lot more sense! If Buzz said Santa was real, it was all the proof I needed and quickly forgot all about those rumors. The terrifying Christmas Eve and night of the previous year had however made me face reality. There was no Santa Claus. Otherwise I would've asked him to take me far away, I thought to myself.

"Santa's not real. I know."

The truth still hurt a little, though I pretended not to care. Marvin looked relieved.

"So how come you didn't you have a Christmas tree? Was your family poor?"

It was only when I asked him that question that I realized how it would explain so many things, starting with why Marvin had grown up to become a thief. I almost sympathized with him, and might've been willing to forgive him for not getting a Christmas tree, if this had been about money.

"My family's not poor, kid. My family has owned fur coats stores for three generations and my mother manages two of them.

– So how come you didn't have a Christmas tree?

– Yeah Marv, didn't you celebrate Christmas?" Harry added with a mirthful gleam in his eyes I did not understand.

I could tell he was teasing Marvin again, and that it was making him more and more uncomfortable.

"My family didn't celebrate Christmas. We had something _better_ than Christmas." Marvin responded, almost as a challenge to Harry.

Something better than Christmas? What was better than waking up to presents, no school, family feasts and staying up late? If there was such a thing as a holiday better than Christmas, how come no one had ever told me about it?

"What's better than Christmas?"

At first, Marvin didn't seem to know how to respond. He licked his lips nervously before finally telling me:

"Well… you know how you get presents on Christmas morning? My family exchanges gifts for _eight_ days.

– You celebrated Christmas for eight days?"

Marvin sighed, beginning to show signs of impatience.

"Kid, we didn't celebrate Christmas, okay? We celebrated-" he then interrupted himself, hesitating before finishing: "We celebrated the Festival of Lights."Marvin seemed to wait for a reaction on my part, but it was my turn to look at him in puzzlement.

"Marv, you really want to get into that with the kid?" Harry intervened.

"You started it! And why not? Since he's mine, he should know that stuff.

– That's just on paper, Marv.

– Yes, papers _you_ filled."

And that's when I stopped paying attention. This was not a conversation I wanted to get into with Marvin again. There had been no mention of us being family in weeks, and although I had promised Marvin to try my best and behave, I wasn't ready to discuss him pretending to be my father.

As usual, their bickering jumped from one subject to the next and soon, I don't think either of them remembered what they had been arguing about in the first place. I, however, wasn't sure where we stood on the matter of Christmas trees. Since Marvin had not seemed committed to the idea of buying one, I more or less put a cross on the whole thing.

I did not forget however. I could never forget about Christmas. All this talk about trees, Chinese food and Santa also got me thinking about this Festival of Lights Marvin had mentioned. It sounded… different. And eight days of presents did not sound like such a bad deal.

Our conversation on that afternoon walk had roused my curiosity. I let all this information simmer in the back of my mind, unsure of what to do with it. It was only later, while we were having dinner, that I reopened the discussion:

"Marv, about that Festival of Lights… What's it like? Is there a parade?"

I liked parades, and a parade of lights sounded pretty festive. Plus, if there was a parade, maybe Marvin would take me. I don't think he had expected my question as he looked over to Harry who smirked back at him.

"Why would you think there's a parade?" Marvin answered, I suspect to buy himself time to respond.

"Santa has a parade. You said the Festival of Lights was better than Christmas."

Marvin took another bite from his plate, thinking this over.

"Well… there's no parade.

– But there are lights? Like Christmas lights?

– Not exactly. We light candles at nightfall. We eat, play games.

– And give presents?

– And exchange gifts, yes."

I thought some more about that. My mother would only light real candles on special occasions, like Christmas, Thanksgiving, or when my parents hosted dinner parties. I wasn't allowed to play with matches and was forbidden from touching candles. Like any kid, I was however drawn to fire and loved to watch the flames. If it was up to me, we'd always have candle lit dinners.

"We'd light candles?

– Every night, for eight nights.

– Could I light them?

– Sure. You… wanna give that a try?"

Since it would seem I would not be getting a Christmas, I might as well have _something_. And maybe it wasn't such a bad idea for that something to be as remote from Christmas as possible.

"Would I get eight days of presents?

– Of course.

– Okay."

And just like that, it was decided. I would be celebrating my very first Festival of Lights, whatever that may be. Harry did not object, but shook his head.

"Winning the kid over with the promise of presents… And you claim _Christmas_ is commercial!"

My interest had however really seemed to please Marvin and he ignored Harry's sarcasm.

"I'll have to find a few things…

– You're serious about this?" Harry sounded dubious.

"Well, why not?

– You never cared about that stuff.

– I know, but there's always a first time for everything." Looking my way, Marvin added: "And who knows, it could be… interesting.

– And you had to choose when we're living in the middle of nowhere to start?

– What does that have to do with anything?

– Oh, I don't know… Off the top of my head, good luck finding a menorah around here!"

Marvin looked slightly worried, but his natural optimism quickly returned.

"I'll figure something."

The following days got Marvin running many errands all over town. He didn't say what he was up to, but I could tell he was getting anxious about something. Harry watched him as well, but didn't smirk, or poke fun at him like he usually did.

"Did you find one?" Harry finally asked him.

"No. Maybe I'd have more luck if I drove to the city.

– What are you looking for?" I tried to join in the conversation.

Harry was however much more concerned about Marvin than my question.

"I doubt it, Marv. Their version of "city" isn't Chicago. You know you'd only be wasting your time.

– Maybe my mom could send me one." Marvin mumbled.

"It wouldn't get here on time.

– I know, okay!" Marvin angrily snapped at him before going outside, taking his frustration out shoveling.

I didn't like Marvin being so snippy. It made me nervous. And since my questions had brought it on, I wasn't sure this Festival was worth it anymore.

"Is Marv upset because of me?" I asked Harry after witnessing that scene. "We don't really need to do the light thing if it's too complicated…"

Harry didn't answer and gave me a long thoughtful look.

"Never mind Marv, come give me a hand in the garage."

Harry didn't really need my help; that was just an excuse to keep an eye on me as he moved boxes around. Those were heavy, filled with ceramic they had been hired to install. Harry had to go through a couple of them before he finally found the box he had been looking for. He pulled out a single ceramic tile and showed it to me:

"How's that, kid?"

It was a simple tile with a blue and white design.

"It's… nice."

I didn't know what else to say. It was just ceramic, but Harry looked very pleased with his finding. We returned to the kitchen, taking the tile with us, where Harry proceeded to open the cupboards and inspect their content. He eventually gathered small glasses I now know are shot glasses and a cup of wine. Harry then set the glasses in a straight line on the tile with the wine glass standing in the middle.

"What do you think?" Harry asked while admiring his handy work.

I was not sure what I was supposed to think. That was a lot of glasses.

"Are we having guests over?"

Harry chuckled at my response.

"I wasn't wrong about you. You really are a child of Christmas. Well, Marv will explain."

Calling Marvin back in the kitchen, Harry presented his glass collection to him. Harry didn't look nervous, but I could tell he was waiting for Marvin's response. His partner looked at the arrangement, raising an eyebrow.

"Shot glasses?

"If you get those tea candles, it should work." Harry explained. "It's not traditional, but…

– It's perfect!"

I could tell Marvin meant it. I did not understand why it mattered so much, but he was genuinely touched.

"Is that a tile from the Mercier's job?

– We got extra. If we miss the one tile, we're not doing a very good job. It's white and blue, so I figured...

– So you _do_ listen."

Harry awkwardly tried to make it sound like no big deal.

"We've known each other for what? Over twenty-five years? I don't know everything, but I know the essentials."

I could see how much the gesture meant to Marvin. The stress of the previous days lifted, and he was back to his old self again. If I learned anything about Harry over the years, it was that he would always come through when it mattered most. And as much as he liked to pick on Marvin, there were very few people Harry care for more than him.

The following Sunday night marked the beginning of December and, as Marvin explained, the Festival of Lights. Marvin wanted everything to be perfect and had even insisted on cooking. I followed him around, asking questions about what we'd be doing, but Marvin kept everything hush-hush. He knew just how to capture my interest and built on a mystery. Before dinner, after the sun had set, he gathered Harry's glass arrangement and tile on a table by the living room window before inviting me to come closer.

I was both curious and a bit intimidated by these preparations. I could tell this was important to Marvin and I didn't want to spoil this for him. I stopped asking questions and got really quiet as he placed a candle in one of the glass. Marvin had bought a whole bunch of candles, but he only took out two, handing me one of them.

"This is a very important candle. With it, you'll light all the other ones; you think you can do that?"

I nodded and accepted the candle with gravity. Marvin double-checked everything one last time before lighting my candle. I watched the flame flicker and a strange peace fell over me. I could hardly take my eyes off the flame and did not react immediately when Marvin spoke in a language that was neither English nor French.

"What are you saying?

– It's hum… a good luck poem.

– It's not in English.

– No, this is older than English."

I wasn't too much into poetry, and Marvin had never struck me as a poet, but I still listened. His words, though their meaning was lost on me, brought solemnity to the moment. I was so captivated by this ritual I did not even consider asking for a translation of his so-called poem.

When he was done, Marvin pointed to the first candle on the far right of the row and asked me to light it using my own candle. I took my role very seriously and was careful not to knock anything off the table. I then placed my candle in the wine glass, towering over all the others, just as Marvin told me to. I watched the candles burn in silence as Marvin said another poem. It was… nice. Simple, yet soothing in a way. I had never done anything like this with my family.

"Your mother would be proud." Harry said from his armchair where he had been watching.

"I don't know." Marvin winced. "It's been ages, my accent is terrible. But I remembered all the words."

I detected a hint of pride in his voice as he said that.

"What about the other candles? We only light these two?

– We'll light a third candle tomorrow, and another one the night after for eight nights until all the candles are lit." explained Marvin.

"What do we do now?

– We let them burn. You want me to tell you why we light candles?"

I always did enjoy Marvin's stories. This time, he sounded a little more nervous than usual, but grew confident as the story progressed. As I listened to Marvin explaining the origins of his Festival of Lights, I vaguely wondered why my parents had never told me about it. I didn't understand, or see this was a religious ritual, Marvin didn't explain it that way. He's never been the most devout of Jew to begin with, or even mentioned his heritage. Marvin stayed away from any mention of God, religion, or faith, and made it sound like a sort of fairy tale filled with magic and wonder.

Given that, not so long ago, I believed the story of a jolly man living in the North Pole dedicated to building toys for children all year long, I did not need more explanation. I had had enough traumas to cope with for one year without adding a new system of belief on top of it. Back then I also lived under the assumption everybody was Christian, how could I not? All my friends at school were, and my family did not live in what would qualify as the most multicultural neighborhood of Chicago.

It was only when I got older, and started asking more specific questions that Marvin went into details. I never embraced Jewish faith, or any faith for that matter, and thankfully my captors were far from religious zealots. It's probably because he never insisted on shoving his beliefs down my throat that I can still enjoy performing this annual ritual with Marvin. Although Harry doesn't participate, he'll always be present, sitting with us and listening to Marvin without interrupting.

By the time Marvin was done telling the story, the candles were almost all burned up.

"You want to open your presents now?

– Yeah!"

The first present Marvin gave me was a wooden spinning top. Marvin gave me many presents that year; Legos, chocolate and candied nuts, pajamas, puzzles, comic books, binoculars and an indoor tent, but I could tell the spinning top was the one that was most special to him. It had four faces and strange symbols painted on each side.

"My grandfather made it." Marvin told me.

Even at my young age I could sense the importance of family heirlooms. My father had inherited the grandfather clock in our dining room from his parents. My mother had offered her own pearl earrings to Megan on her fourteenth birthday and her porcelain dolls to Linnie. Buzz prized our father's signed Chicago Bear football from the 64's world champions and Jeff had been promised our grandfather's coin collection. My mother had displayed her father's piano in our living room and kept all of his partitions. I was the only one who played the piano in my family, and my mother had hinted that the partitions would someday be mine, if I took my lessons seriously.

The spinning top was no piano partitions, but it was still beautiful and perfectly balanced. Marvin showed me how to spin it so it would go on and on for minutes. It was a thoughtful gift, and I always treated it with care. In the years to come, I was sometimes tempted to break it to get back at Marvin for… well… stuff, but I could never bring myself to do it. I knew he had given me something precious, much more precious than the pocket watch, or the Gameboy.

When the candles had completely burned out, we had dinner. Marvin, true to form, made an egg recipe. This was a new one that I had never tasted before. He cooked the eggs on a bed of onions, peppers and tomato sauce with lots of spices. It was no Christmas feast, but I think both Harry and I appreciated Marvin's efforts.

So far, I did not dislike this Festival of Lights. I wasn't ready to say it was better than Christmas, but it was fun. As Marvin had exhausted all of his talents to pull this first dinner off, Harry took over the cooking for the rest of the week. He served crunchy potato pancakes with sour cream and apple sauce every night. We also had spiced sweet lamb, roasted chicken, buttery egg noodles, chicken dumpling soup, and veal with caramelized onions. Harry did not usually make dessert, but he made an exception by dipping Ritz and Oreo cookies into chocolate to go with the jelly donuts Marvin bought almost every day.

Later, Marvin taught me how to play a game with my spinning top. We used candied nuts and Hershey's chocolates as wagers. The game was simple, but even Harry did seem to enjoy it.

This Festival of Lights was off to a good start.

Every night, for seven more nights, the ritual repeated itself with one more candle being lit in our window. Those were not Christmas lights, but I liked it. The fact that we used real flames and not electric lights did add a touch of magic to the scene.

After voicing his initial doubts over Marvin introducing me to his customs, Harry had played along without any more interference. Perhaps in light of my positive response, he decided to take it one step further and orchestrated a surprise for Marvin.

As the Festival of Lights came to a close, Harry got me alone in the kitchen to help him prepare a sweet and sour beef recipe. He presented me with what, at the time, seemed like an innocent request:

"So, kid; are you having fun this week?

– Uh huh!

– Marv got you great gifts; that was nice of him, wasn't it?

– I like Legos.

– He knows you do, that's why he bought them. Since this is the last night, are you going to give _him_ a present?"

Offer Marvin a present? I had not thought of that! For almost eight days, Marvin had offered me toys and gifts, and I had not even considered returning the favor. And this was the last night, it didn't give me much time to come up with an idea. Luckily for me, Harry did not leave me hanging, and smoothly suggested:

"How about you make him a snow globe?

– A snow globe?

– Yeah, Marv likes those. He collects them. He always keeps a couple on the van's dashboard."

What a great idea! I had already made plenty of arts and crafts for Marvin, but never a snow globe. It would be special. There was only one problem:

"How do I make a snow globe?"

Harry had not brought up this idea without being prepared. Clearing the kitchen table, he gave me a decorative jar and a few figurines he had bought for me to choose from with glitter and fake snow. I didn't need more encouragement to get invested in this project.

After careful deliberations, I selected a snowy Christmas tree and a snowman I thought would look nice together and glued them on the lit of the jar. Harry let me add the amount of glitter and snow I wanted before filling the jar with glycerine and sealing it. I thought the end result was very impressive; it looked like a real snow globe! I could not wait to give it to Marvin.

Harry rarely did anything without a good reason. As usual, there was an ulterior motive to this little art project. As I finished tying a red ribbon around the jar, Harry casually asked:

"Hey kid, you wanna make your gift extra special?"

What a question, of course I wanted to make my gift extra special! This had been such a nice week, I wanted to end on a high note.

"Sure!

– Okay, here's what you should do, when you give your present to Marv tonight, you call him "Abba". You think you can do that?"

I had never heard that word before and repeated it with some hesitation.

"Abba? Is that Italian?

– Oh no, it's an old word. It's in the same language as those symbols on your spinning top and those good luck poems Marvin says every night."

I took a closer look at my spinning top. Marvin had explained the meaning of each symbol, but had not mentioned anything about the word "Abba".

"What does it mean?"

Had Harry told me the truth, I would've been so angry it would've forever ruined Marvin's efforts at making me appreciate his traditions, but tricky Harry had an answer at the ready:

"It's a sign of respect." he simply told me. "Calling him "Abba" is a way of saying "thank you".

– How come Marv didn't tell me?

– Saying "thank you" has to come from you, not Marv, otherwise, it wouldn't mean anything.

– And Marv will like it?

– Oh, he'll be surprised, but _very_ happy if you do."

Harry's explanation made sense. He had, after all, known the glass arrangement would please Marvin. He obviously knew a lot more about those traditions than I did, and I didn't have any reason to refuse this request. It was a rather simple one.

That evening, while our nine candles burned at our window, I was much more excited to offer my present to Marvin than I was to receive mine.

"I made you something!" I announced eagerly as I handed him my snow globe wrapped in tissue paper.

"You did? What is that?" Marvin played along.

He unwrapped my present and his eyes sparkled with delight when he discovered my creation.

"A snow globe? You did that yourself? That's pretty neat, kid!"

From his seat behind Marvin, I saw Harry give me a nod of encouragement, and I answered just as he had told me to:

"Thanks, Abba!"

That word was the icing on the cake. I saw Marvin freeze and slowly raise his eyes from the snow globe to look at me in awe.

"What did you say?"

Marvin sounded really surprised, just as Harry said he would be. I enjoyed his reaction and happily repeated myself:

"Thank you, Abba."

"Kid, who taught you that word?"

But Marvin glanced at Harry as he said this, deducing who had been behind this unexpected greeting.

"Harry said it would make my gift extra special. Are you happy?" I asked, noticing the look that passed between the two.

When Marvin faced me, he smiled warmly to me.

"Harry is very smart. And coming from you, this makes _everything_ extra special."

How could I not be pleased by the warm reception my gift had received? This was the perfect conclusion to a perfect week. I didn't pay too much attention to Marvin as he turned to Harry once again to express his gratitude:

"Thanks, Harry. Really."

The earnest behind these words did not escape my young ears, though I could not understand the reason behind it.

"Happy Hanukkah, Marv." Harry replied. He then lit himself a cigar and sat back in his chair, looking quite satisfied with himself.

It's only looking back today that I can see I was not the only one who had presented Marvin with a gift that evening. I can tell which one he preferred.

And it wasn't my snow globe.

 _AN:_

 _Well this concludes the first part of the holiday chapters; I hope you enjoyed it!_

 _Since Marv is Jewish, I really didn't see how I could not mention Hanukkah at one point or another._

 _I hope I did not offend anyone, but since this IS the internet, I will assume someone was offended. In my defense, let it be known that I did my research for this chapter and had one of my colleagues, who is Jewish, go over it with me to double check. So for the record, I tried! The idea to use an arrangement of shot and wine glasses as a menorah was my colleague's, as he used this arrangement with his roommates back in college._

 _I KNOW the exact term for the Hanukkah candelabra is a Chanukiah (which has nine branches), and not a menorah (which has seven), but I did not think Harry would know this distinction, and so used this word instead._

 _I also know that the Shamash candle is usually left standing on the Chanukiah until it is time to light the other candles, but my colleague said that letting Kevin hold it was common way to make children feel more involved in the ritual, so I left it as was._

 _Yes, I am aware of the dissensions surrounding the use of the word "Abba" as "Dad". My colleague however assured me that it was commonly used in his community, and although semantically incorrect, not frowned upon, and even proudly embraced by new fathers. Since this approach fit my purpose, I decided to go with it._

 _In 1991, Hanukkah started on Sunday, December 1_ _st_ _._

 _I have to say, cooking is a passion of mine, and while researching this chapter I came across so many amazing looking recipes, I can't wait to give them a try!_

 _The recipe Marvin cooked on the first night was shakshuka. I know it is not a traditional Hanukkah dish, but my colleague suggested it in light of Marvin's limited cooking abilities._

 _As for Harry, he made latkes (potato pancakes), matzo ball soup (chicken dumpling soup), a brisket (sweet and sour beef recipe) and the Oreos and Ritz covered in chocolate stood for gelt cookies. Since Harry doesn't bake, Marvin could not pull it off, and because they are in a small town, Marvin bought jelly donuts to replace the traditional sufganiyot._

 _The spinning top Marvin offered Kevin was, of course, a dreidel._


	22. Chapter 21

_AN:_

 _Hello everybody! Here is the long overdue second part of the Christmas chapter. Hopefully the last part will be coming out soon. Thank you all for sticking around for so long. When I first started this story, I definitely didn't know it would be so long, but I am enjoying every second!_

Chapter 21

Marvin's festival had been a great success. He had not only introduced me to his traditions, but had made sure I had felt included. As manipulative as he could sometimes be, Marvin had shared a piece of himself with me during the Festival of Lights, something that was true and meaningful. More than any other gifts he had offered me so far, those quiet evenings of December strengthened the bond between us. I had had fun, enjoyed my new toys, and even found solace in the intimacy of the daily ritual, and yet...

It's not that I was not grateful or anything, it's just that the feeling didn't last. It couldn't. Even the most entertaining Festival of Lights could not change the fact that Christmas was coming. It wasn't about presents, the food, or the holiday itself, but what I was missing most: my family. Regardless of how much Harry and Marvin had tried in the months leading up to Christmas, they could not erase the souvenir of my family.

I didn't mean to be so glum. I did not mention the holiday and tried not to think too hard about it, but every song on the radio, every ad on television, every Christmas themed movie and sitcom twisted the knife lodged in my heart. I took it upon myself not to feed my own sadness by avoiding television and sticking to the movies Harry and Marvin rented. I fiddled with the radio until I found a rock station that boasted of never playing a single Christmas song. Sadly, every time they would mention it, it would just depress me some more and I ended up turning the radio off. Without my two main sources of entertainment, the days were very long while I waited for Harry and Marvin to return.

It was however not the days that were causing me trouble as much as the nights.

As the final countdown to Christmas began, nightmares invaded my dreams.

Dreams of my family were not uncommon. I did my best to avoid reminiscing about them when I was awake, but all my souvenirs would resurface in my sleep. Most of these dreams were incoherent; I dreamed of going fishing with my dad on an endless lake, I dreamed of chasing Jeff through a jungle made of twisted black trees, mud and mocking birds, I dreamed of my mother fretting over a homeless woman hiding in my treehouse, of not being able to keep up with Buzz as we walked to school and getting lost, that kind of nonsense.

Around the holidays, I was however plagued by the souvenirs of my last evening with my family. I would relive, over and over, these last hours, unable to change anything. In these dreams, I was haunted by this inexplicable feeling of foreboding. Like, something was after me. My house was filled with relatives, but I wasn't safe. Something bad was about to happen, and I couldn't escape it. I would seek out one family member after another, trying to find safety in their presence, only to be met with jeers, indifference and impatience. No one had time to listen, no one wanted me around, and I was in the way, always in the way.

Harry would usually feature in these dreams. He would be standing in the foyer, smoking a cigar while I walked around, trying to get my family's attention. He was the only one in my dream who didn't seem to mind me. He would smile and wink at me, his gold tooth glittering. He would never leave the foyer, try to catch me, or speak to me, but his presence did bother me, though I could not remember why. Sometimes, Marvin would be with him, the two of them dressed in matching police uniforms. Sid would appear alongside his brother once in a while as well, seemingly amused by everything I did. In some more disturbing dreams, I would find him in my sisters' bedroom talking to Linnie, and I couldn't drag her away.

In another version of this dream I vowed to behave; if I behaved, didn't talk back, didn't argue or start a fight, whatever was after me wouldn't get me. If I was nice, my family would not send me away. I would make myself as small as possible, and be quiet as a mouse, but somehow I always ended standing in the middle of a mess with everyone looking down on me with anger.

My mother would then escort me upstairs and I knew something awful was waiting for me. In my dream, I would cry, and beg, and apologies, but my mother never seemed to hear. No matter what I said and did, or how much I clung to her, I would always, always be sent to the third floor. As the door closed on me, the attic would then become dark and I knew I wasn't home anymore, but back in the storage room.

I would wake up from those nightmares broken and exhausted. Reality brought me little to no relief, and I would cling without shame to my stuffed elephant. The nightmares have thankfully become less common as I got older, but they would shake me to the core when I was still a kid.

There were other dreams as well. Dreams I would not have qualified as nightmares if they didn't leave me with such feeling of loss and longing. They were the best, and at the same time, the worst. I dreamed of Christmas morning, the morning that never was. I dreamed of waking up in my parents' bed, safe and sound at home. As I rushed downstairs, calling for my family, I was greeting by silence. My stomach would tie in a knot in disappointment. But then I would turn around and she would be there. My mother. She had not abandoned me. She had come back for me. I would run in her arms and she would hug me tight. I could sometimes even smell her perfume. My dream would often end on that note, but sometimes it would reach perfection and the front door would open on the rest of my family. My siblings would casually walk in, bickering and arguing, but greeting me with pleasure, while my father lifted me in his arms. Surrounded by my family, I finally felt safe.

That was usually when Harry would wake me up.

A bad start to any day.

I came to view my life as a long string of bad days. I grew quieter and anxious at the same time. I didn't pester Harry and Marvin with questions anymore. I was tired all the time, and lost interest in pretty much everything. My mind struggled with the most basics of decisions, like what type of jam to put on my toasts in the morning. It was too much. I could stare-off in space for hours, and there were mornings when I didn't feel like getting up at all, others where I returned to bed as soon as Harry and Marvin left for work. I wasn't exactly sleeping, though I welcomed sleep; my dreams were the only place I could see my family, and so I wanted nothing more than to lose myself in them.

An unhealthy and dangerous frame of mind.

As the days passed, even Marvin had difficulty rousing me from my state of apathy. I wasn't amused by our sleights of hand anymore, his French and Harry's Italian lessons lost their appeal. What was the point, anyway? I didn't ask to go outside, and could not concentrate on Harry's requests, making clumsy mistakes as we cooked dinner.

It didn't take long for Harry and Marvin to notice my behaviour. Their initial response was to leave me to my own devises. They watched me closely, and did not berate me for my mistakes, which now tells me how worried they must've been. They probably hoped this was just a bad phase that would fade on its own.

It didn't.

I was too young to know what a depression was, but I think I was slowly sinking into one. Harry and Marvin were no doctors, but they could see there was something wrong with me. The final straw came one evening when they returned home to find me still in bed and the lunch they had left for me untouched.

I overheard them discussing furiously just outside my bedroom, but I paid them no mind. I was perfectly content in my little cocoon of warmth, and ignored their agitation. Listening was exhausting, so I closed my eyes, and lulled myself back to sleep to the sound of my heartbeat.

I don't know what conclusion they drew, but Harry soon walked back in my room, Marvin on his heels, shaking me awake.

"Okay, kid; get up." he commanded with authority.

"I'm tired." That was answer to everything these days.

"You've been sleeping all day. Time to get up.

– It's nice out, we'll go for a walk." Marvin added.

Marvin did not conceal his worry as well as Harry, but I did not trouble myself with it. I didn't have the energy to argue, and much less will to go outside.

"I don't want to. It's cold out.

– Kevin, if you don't get out of bed right now, I'll drag you in the washroom and give you a cold shower. That'll wake you up." Harry threatened.

You could say Harry was a firm believer in tough love.

Not the best remedy to a depression.

Part of me wanted to ignore him and get back to sleep, but the lucid part of my mind reminded me of how ill-advised it was to ignore Harry's warnings. He really just might do it, and the fact that Marvin had not objected told me he was desperate enough to let him.

So I dragged myself out of bed and got dressed. Before going out, Marvin brushed my hair, something I had been neglecting to do for days, and he made me brush my teeth. It didn't make me feel better.

It was snowing that night. There was no wind and snowflakes fell lazily from low hanging clouds. The temperature was mild, an ideal evening to take a walk. I didn't care about the scenery and followed Harry and Marvin blindly down the familiar paths. My body ached after days of inactivity, and all I could think about was going back to bed.

Marvin tried to engage me by climbing snow hills and making angels in the snow, but I had no energy to imitate him and merely watched him in silence. When Marvin saw that wasn't working, he fell back on his gift of storytelling.

"Hey kid, do you know why evergreens keep their needles and all the others trees lose their leaves in winter?

– No, why?" I asked half-heartedly.

So Marvin went on to tell me a fairy tale about haughty trees, a magical sparrow, and a kind old fir. I'm not sure where Marvin got all his stories, but he was able to hold my attention, which was saying something.

The three of us were so engrossed in his story, we never saw or heard Marvin's girlfriend. She came from behind us, the sound of her footsteps drown out by our own and Marvin's voice. First thing we knew, she had sprung out of the darkness and caught up with us, her faithful dog at her side. This had not been a part of the program!

Harry instantly took Marvin's place at my side and led me away while Marvin struck up a conversation with the woman. I saw her glance our way, but I was in no state to stage an escape and sat in the snow to wait. After all these months of practicing French, I might've been able to follow Marvin and his girlfriend's conversation had I tried, but I didn't have the will to concentrate.

I would've let my mind go numb again, had it not been for the woman's golden retriever; it was a beautiful animal and I couldn't help whistling to call it at my side. The dog lit up at once and happily came toward me. As soon as he saw the dog approach, Harry stopped paying attention to Marvin's girlfriend and watched it instead. Harry was never an animal lover and didn't hide it. I don't think he ever owned a pet, which, I suppose, explains his natural distrust of them.

I did not share Harry's feelings; I reached out to pet the dog, timidly at first, then with more enthusiasm as the dog wagged its tail and nuzzled against me. The golden retriever was too friendly not to make me smile. I took off my mittens and ran my fingers in its fur, scratching its back. The dog's coat shone and it was all puffed up for winter. My clothes were soon covered in dog hair.

While petting the dog, I located a stick on the side of the road. Perfect! I picked it up and threw it as far as I could, pleased by how fast the golden retriever sprinted after it. The dog quickly brought the stick back, making me tug on it, growling. I don't think Harry liked that at all, but I was not intimidated by the dog's playful growls, and urged the golden retriever on until it dropped the stick at my feet so I could throw it again.

We played fetch for a few minutes until Marvin reluctantly joined us, his smiling girlfriend in tow. The woman did not stay long. She gave us a quick hello, which made me look to Harry for guidance; I wasn't sure if I was allowed to speak to strangers, even if it was just to say hello. Harry was not rude to her, but he didn't do or say anything to make her feel welcome either, staring at the woman in silence. Marvin could always blame it on the language barrier later. His girlfriend didn't seem to take offense. Her kind, but sad smile, however, made me regret not paying closer attention to what Marvin had been telling her.

She gave Marvin a peck, called her dog, and went her own way. I watched the golden retriever follow its mistress with disappointment. I wished we could've taken the dog home with us. I didn't want to imagine Harry's response at such a suggestion.

"You've made friend with Zeus?" Marvin asked me as we resumed our walk.

"Zeus? Is that the name of her dog?

– She named her dog after the Greek god of thunder? What kind of name is that for a dog?" Harry mocked.

The name of a Greek god? I had not learned about mythology yet, but I liked the sound of that. It was different.

"I like Zeus." I replied quietly.

Harry turned to me as I said this without answering. I was too tired to worry about what I had done wrong this time, and ignored him. The rest of our walk was uneventful. I was glad when Harry prepared a light dinner and sent me to bed shortly afterwards. It was probably an excuse so he and Marvin could talk, but I simply could not muster the energy to care.

I am sure the touchy matter of Christmas was discussed at length between Harry and Marvin long before the holidays started. They probably expected tears, screams, and anger, but not a depression. They didn't like it, but were unsure of what to do about it. That forced walk had been their way of doing _something_ , though we all knew it would not solve the problem. Harry and Marvin never studied psychology, but they were determined to banish my melancholy away, one way or another.

Since their initial strategy of ignoring Christmas had not worked, they moved to plan B. To my astonishment, _Harry_ , and not Marvin, brought back a Christmas tree the very next day.

Christmas was only a few days away, but Harry had managed to find a decent tree that almost touched the living room ceiling. The dark green fir brought in that strong spicy Christmas scent that I loved. I was frankly torn between happiness and sorrow.

The acquisition of a tree didn't magically fix my depression, but it didn't plunge me in despair either, which was a good start. Following my bout of depression on our first holiday season, Harry always made sure to buy a tree every year on the first weekend of December.

Giving how close Christmas was getting, Harry and Marvin then decided it would be preferable not to leave me alone. One of them would stay home with me, while the other went to work. Luckily for them, in this small town, work really slowed down around the holidays and there were no emergencies that required both of their expertise. There were some days when both of them even got to stay home with me!

Harry and Marvin stayed home all right, but it was no holiday.

My depression had frightened them enough to force them to take action. Harry and Marvin reacted as best as they could, opting for the somewhat overly simple strategy of not letting me time to think about my family. They filled my days with activities, starting as soon as Harry would wake me up. No more skipping meals; they would make sure I ate at regular hours. Whether I wanted to or not, they took me outside twice a day, once in the morning, and later in the afternoon so I had plenty of fresh air.

This also marked the first time Harry and Marvin made an attempt at giving me an education. Nothing too serious, maybe they didn't even see it as such, but they would sit with me and make me read newspapers or books aloud. When I came across I word I did not understand, they made me write it down and explained its signification. It didn't take them long before they had to buy a dictionary. I don't think either of them had touched one in years! They bought one with pictures and showed me how to use it. I would sometimes flip through it just to look at them.

My daily activities did not end there; when Harry brought back our tree, he neglected to buy ornaments. Even after all these years, neither Harry nor Marvin will buy any ornaments. Especially not _glass_ ornaments; this just goes to show how, although the events of Christmas 1990 might've been more or less forgiven, they were never forgotten. The closest thing to Christmas ornaments they ever bought were boxes of candy canes, but I think those were mostly for me to eat.

That ban on Christmas ornaments had another purpose; since Harry and Marvin had come up to the conclusion that the best way for me to get better was to keep me busy, they put me in charge of making our Christmas tree ornaments.

"You want me to make ornaments? _All_ of them?"

I had a few ideas, but this was a whole tree! I wasn't even sure Harry and Marvin had enough fishhooks on hand.

"All of them." Harry confirmed. "My parents never bought any ornaments for our tree and today's not the day I'll start. I'll show you how."

I discovered that Harry had plenty of tricks up his sleeves when it came to arts and crafts. He showed me how to turn everyday oranges in the most original creations. We would slice them and bake them to dry them out. We would peel others in a spiral, or cut it into petals we would use with other material, such as cinnamon sticks and evergreens. I didn't think much of them at first, but once hung, they totally brighten up our tree.

Harry was no baker, but he knew how to make salt dough. His versatile recipe became for a long time one of my favorite activity. He showed me how to knell it, roll it and cut in various shapes that would make ornaments fit for any occasions: little trees, stars, candy canes, snowman, anything really.

Marvin did not stand idle; he might never have had a Christmas tree, but he brought me back twigs from the forest, and he helped me tie them together to make rustic snowflakes. Harry sawed wooden sticks in slices and encouraged me to decorate them by gluing cranberries, orange peels and tiny branches of evergreens on them. My previously discarded pine cones were retrieved so I could cover them in glitter. Marvin also bought two dozens, if not more, of those little bells we used to practice our sleight of hands, so I could tie them together, or combine them with other material to make more ornaments.

There were also garlands to make. Of all the ornaments I've learned to make, garlands are the ones I like best. Harry showed me how to make them by stringing stale popcorn and cranberries on a fishing line. It took time and kept me busy for a few evenings, but Harry would sit with me with a bowl of fresh buttery popcorn to help.

Making Christmas ornaments is a tradition the three of us have kept over the years. Every December, as soon as Harry buys our tree, we get started. The material we use varies, as we don't always live conveniently next to a forest, but we got creative. A few years later, we would get a candy themed Christmas tree with gingerbread cookies, gum drops garlands, lollipops, peppermint, Hershey kisses and candy canes. The years I took on origami, I made most of our ornaments out of paper. There was also the time we had a liquor themed Christmas tree with most of the ornaments made out mini liquor bottles, wine cork, corkscrew, plastic wine and shot glasses with various labels.

Did they cure my depression? Not even I know. I think curing would be a strong word. Harry and Marvin helped me get through it. I still have slight bouts of, maybe not depression, but sadness around Christmas. Nothing coming close to the one I had that first year, but I'll still have the blues. Harry and Marvin have come to accept it as part of our lives together. This is yet another subject we don't discuss. We just endure it.

My mood did improve over time, and my natural curiosity did resurface, but I know I was not the child I used to be. I remember being a happy and carefree kid, but since landing with Harry and Marvin, I seldom laughed anymore. After nearly a year at their sides, I no longer cried as often as I used to, but I wasn't smiling much either. I was merely surviving.

That wasn't enough for Harry.

He wouldn't let my mind wander and, as we worked on the Christmas tree ornaments, he resumed his Italian lessons with me. This time, I didn't have much say in the matter; Harry had decided I would learn Italian, and that was the end of it.

Marvin had been teaching me French as a pastime, and with him as my main teacher, there was only so much French I could learn. Since we've left Canada, I have not had many opportunities to practice, and as a result, my French has got rusty. Italian, on the other hand, I still practice every day to this day.

Being taught by Harry was different. He did not have books, or television shows to support my learning; Harry was all I needed. His teaching was also more structured than Marvin's. He taught me how to count, made me learn the names of the months, and all the colours. He showed me the difference between the English and Italian alphabet and would sometime spend entire afternoons speaking Italian so I would get used to the sounds of the language. I had never heard Harry talk so much, and I didn't understand most of what he was saying! It made my head spin.

Harry would stop once in a while to make me repeat his words back to him. Phonetic and accents mattered a lot to Harry; he would insist I identified and repeated the correct inflexions in all the words I spoke, even if I didn't know what they meant yet.

"You can do better than that; your pronunciation is as bad as Sid's!" he told me one day without taking his eyes off the cranberries he was threading on a garland.

I hated the idea of being compared to that man, but I found Harry's words intriguing.

"Sid doesn't speak Italian?

– Sid and Leo never bothered to learn. Too lazy. They know a few words, and all the ways to insult a man, but they could never carry on a conversation in Italian. Fucking disgraces, the both of them."

I suspect Harry's words had been far from innocent; He rarely spilled information about his family just for the sake of conversation. Harry was no fool, he was well aware of how much I disliked his brothers, especially Sid. What he did was provide me with the motivation I needed to strive to learn Italian. Harry understood me much more than I gave him credit for back then; I did apply myself to learning proper Italian after hearing of Sid's own shortcoming.

Today, I take great pride in showing off my flawless Italian before Harry's friends and family. I'll even allow myself the luxury of mocking Sid, now and then. It's so easy to take a dig at him, knowing he can't do a thing about it. Marvin loves it, and even Harry won't scold me too hard, as long as I stay within reason.

If I dare poke fun at Sid, the same cannot be said of Charlie.

I'm always on my guard around Charlie.

And it's not because Charlie lacks a sense of humour. He loves to laugh and always has amusing anecdotes to share with me. Unlike Sid, Charlie never threatened me, at least not to my face, but I always had a feeling he was the kind of man that could smile at you just as easily as he could stab you.

Charlie became another source of motivation for me to learn Italian. Harry still called his brother every week and finding out what they were discussing became an obsession of mine for a while. Even after he had started teaching me Italian, Harry continued to take Charlie's calls in the living room where I would sit and listen. That alone should've told me I was placing too much importance on those calls, but hey, I was a kid, what did I know? I'm not sure what I hoped to learn. Some shady conspiracy? The details of a heist? A way for me to get back to my family? Of course not! I was grasping at straws and didn't know it.

I simply assumed that the only reason Harry would be speaking Italian was because he was keeping secrets from me, secrets I needed to uncover. Maybe Harry counted on this. It was yet another way for me to learn, and he probably preferred my curiosity to my indifference.

I picked up the habit of eavesdropping on his conversation with Charlie during that first holiday season. I chose an evening when it was just Harry and me. Marvin was away for the night; he was sleeping at his girlfriend's house, as she would be leaving for the holidays on the next morning.

I was sitting not far from Harry, pretending to read. I concentrated, trying to follow his conversation, but Harry spoke Italian so fast when he was on the phone with his brother! To complicate matters, he also used a much more elaborated vocabulary.

What little I understood of Harry's conversation was not what I expected. The words "mother" and "father" in Italian were easy to recognize. Even with little to no knowledge of the language I could've understood. They were discussing family.

I wasn't sure how to feel about that. Family was such a mundane subject, almost too normal to fit with the vision I had of Harry. It was the kind of conversation I had heard my own father have a hundred times with his brothers. It should not have surprised me, with Christmas just around the corner, and yet it did. I was at an age where it was hard for me to imagine Harry having parents of his own. Parents he cared for, parents that chided him for not calling more often, parents he could talk with whenever he wanted to; it naturally got me thinking about my own family.

I wondered what they were doing right now; maybe they were busy wrapping some last minute presents. Or perhaps they were sitting this very moment in the living room, drinking eggnog, admiring their Christmas tree before a blazing fire.

It had been over a year since I had last spoken with any member of my family. I suffered a moment of panic as I realized I could not recall the sound of my father's voice, or my mother's. What did they sound like? I had avoided thinking about them for so long I now had difficulty recapturing their images in my mind. What did they look like? Everything was so blurry. How tall was my father? How long was my mother's hair?

The thought was unbearable. I put my book to the side and walked up to Harry as he hung up. I didn't know what I wanted until I opened my mouth:

"I wanna call home."

Harry's relaxed features were suddenly sharp as he looked at me. I thought for sure he would explode with rage, but he didn't get angry, or shouted at me.

"Kevin, why do you do this?" he instead sighed.

"I wanna talk to my mom and dad."

I'm not sure what I was thinking. Obviously there was no way Harry would ever let me call home. Maybe I had hoped that, in the spirit of the holiday season, he would grant me this one kindness. I know how naïve that sounds, Harry wasn't one to be moved by my plight. In light of my recent mood however, he treaded more carefully than he normally might have.

"Why must you make me say things that will hurt you?"

In a way, I suppose Harry was trying to protect me from myself. I couldn't grasp his meaning, the only answer I was interested in was a "yes", and I closed my ears to everything else.

"I won't tell them anything." I pleaded. "I just…"

I just wanted to make sure they did not forget me.

I didn't say it for fear of bursting into tears, and stood my ground before Harry.

"Kevin, stop. You know I can't do that, you'll just upset yourself.

– I miss them…" I argued, as if Harry couldn't figure that one on his own.

My parents would always be my parents. No amount of gifts, Italian lessons, or games could replace them, couldn't he see that? After all, both he and Marvin were adults, and they still felt the need to call their family.

Harry and Marvin had probably been preparing themselves for a rough holiday season, but I do believe my request caught Harry off guard. I put him in a difficult position; how to refuse me without sending me over the edge of depression? Looking away, he sighed again.

"Kevin, calling home won't help.

– Yes it will!" I pushed, thinking I had found a chink in his armour.

"No, it won't. Your parents are not there." Harry responded sharply without looking at me.

This news stopped me in my tracks. I furrowed my brow without understanding. Where else could my family be, but at home? And how could Harry know where my parents were?

"Where are they?

– It doesn't matter." he said, lowering his voice. "They're not there."

Harry should've known that such an answer would not satisfy me.

"I don't believe you. I wanna call my mom and dad!" I almost shouted, getting agitated again.

By then, Harry could probably recognize the telltale signs of an impending crisis. He seemed to debate whether to tell me something. When he saw I wouldn't budge, he said:

"All right, kid; listen. Your parents are not home. They and the rest of your family went down to Florida for the holidays. They left this morning. There's no one home." he explained slowly, but firmly.

Florida? I didn't understand right away. Why would my family go to Florida? This was the holidays, why would they…? Had they really gone on a trip while I… And then a little voice in the back of my mind whispered that they had gone because they had, as I feared, forgotten about me. They had moved on, and didn't care. I quickly dismissed the idea and stared at Harry in denial.

"How do you know?

– Sid told me." Harry answered me on the same levelled tone. "They've been planning this trip for weeks."

Sid! I had not been aware until that moment that Harry still spoke with his older brother. He never talked with Sid in my presence. I liked it even less than Charlie's weekly updates.

"He lied!" I hissed back. "My family _is_ home! You're just saying that to punish me!

– Punish you!" Harry looked genially surprised by my accusation. "Kevin, I am not-"

But then he stopped himself and appeared to calm down. To my astonishment, Harry handed me the phone.

"You want to call, let's call, but no one will answer."

He turned on the speaker phone, dialed the first numbers before telling me to dial my home phone number. I was so stunned by this turn of events, I hesitated. Harry wouldn't let me call home, unless he was telling the truth… Did I really want to prove him right? But what if he was bluffing? I so wanted to believe he was lying. I dialed my home phone number, expecting, perhaps hoping, that Harry would rip the phone from my hands. He didn't. He waited with me, watching me, as the phone rang.

I listened to the phone ring, holding my breath. Any second, I thought, any second someone would answer the phone and… Well I didn't know what I would say. Hearing the voice of my loved ones would be enough. My hopes were however slowly crushed as the phone rang, and rang, and no one picked up. There were so many people in our house; the phone was never ignored for long. Hell, Megan spent most of her waking moments practically glued to the phone. Someone would answer, they just had to!

Harry let it ring until the answering machine came on. I wouldn't meet his eyes as I listened to my father's brief and cold message, informing me "we", not the McCallisters, but "we", I noted, could not come to phone. The sound of his voice did not bring me the joy and comfort I was hoping for; he sounded so distant and impersonal. Harry cut the communication at the end of the message.

I didn't say anything at first. To this day, I'm unsure whether I would've preferred Harry's outburst to my unanswered call.

"Maybe they went out…" I tried to persuade myself as much as Harry.

"We can call back later, if you want." Harry said, studying my reaction. "But they won't be there."

When Harry offered to call back later, the truth finally sank in; he had not been lying. My parents were not home. No one was. My family had left to enjoy the holidays far away from home.

Without me.

Again.

I briefly imagined them in a luxurious hotel by the beach, under a golden sun, laughing, having the time of their lives. My siblings and cousins swimming and splashing each other in the pool, throwing beach balls around while our parents drank cocktails and lounged on chairs not too far away.

How I hated them!

I turned to look at our Christmas tree. Well, I tried to comfort myself, I had something _they_ didn't; there were no Christmas trees in Florida.

"Who wants to spend Christmas in a tropical climate anyway?" I muttered angrily to keep myself from crying.

Why did my family have to let me down time and time again? I don't pretend to know what they were thinking, or going through. I don't torture myself making up excuses for them anymore. All I know is that it hurt like hell when I found out they were going on their merry lives without me.

As much as I tried to put on a brave face, my hurt must've shown. I don't know if Harry ever regretted making me call home, knowing no one would answer, but he didn't gloat, or rubbed salt in the wound. Instead, he locked eyes with me, and said:

"Kevin, the McCallisters may not be there, but _we_ are. You have a family. You are _not_ alone, kid."

I did not refute Harry's claim that we were family.

"Marv is not here." I instead pointed out, feeling my eyes swell with tears.

For some reason, I suddenly felt the need to have both Harry and Marvin at my side. Whatever yearning had pushed me to call my family mere minutes ago had now been transferred to none other than my captors. It was an irrational feeling.

"He's just a few minutes away." Harry reasoned with me. "He'll be back tomorrow morning. You know he will."

I knew he would, and it's not like Marvin's presence would've fixed anything, and yet I still felt miserable. Considering me some more I can't help but wonder what Harry saw in my demeanor that gave him the insight to ask:

"Do you want to call Marv?"

That thought had never crossed my mind until Harry suggested it. Why would I want to call Marvin? How would that help? He couldn't change the fact that the memories of my family were going up in smokes. But then I realized Harry and Marvin _could_ offer me something, something I craved above all: the reassurance that I mattered to someone.

I had no idea what I wanted to tell Marvin, but swallowing the lump in my throat, nodded. This time, Harry didn't use the speaker phone as he called Marvin's girlfriend. She's probably the one who picked up as I saw annoyance cross Harry's face. He had to repeat Marvin's name a few times before his partner came to the phone.

I can only imagine the rush of panic that must've gone through Marvin when his girlfriend told him Harry was on the phone. Harry never called him when he was over there.

"No, we're okay." I heard Harry tell him immediately. "The kid just wanted to talk to you."

I didn't hear Marvin's exchange, but he must've guessed something had happened as Harry replied:

"I'll tell you later. Is everything settled for tomorrow? Good." Looking at me he added: "We're going to need it."

He then handed me the phone:

"Here, talk to Marv."

I took the phone trying my best to hide my distress.

"Marv?

– Hey kid, what's up?" There was concern in Marvin's voice beneath this casual question.

I didn't know what to say at first. My pain was still raw. I wanted to blurt out the truth to him about my family. Let out all my doubts, my fears, my anger and disappointments. More than anything, I desperately wanted someone, anyone, to tell me _why_ they had left me, a question no one has ever been able to answer.

But I couldn't say all that. Not to Marvin. He never responded very well to anything that was related to my family and I didn't need to listen to one of his rants. Instead, I spoke the words I wish I could've told my parents:

"I miss you.

– I miss you too, kid."

There had not been a second of hesitation in Marvin's response, which I found reassuring.

"You know, Harry and me, we're thinking about you all the time." he went on to add.

Yes, I'm sure they really were thinking about me all the time, most likely with a good dose of anxiety, but I did not have the cynicism to see it at the time. It just felt good to hear someone say they cared, even if that person was one of my captors.

"You'll be back in the morning?

– Yes, and I promise I'll be there early. Did Harry tell you; we have a good day and fun surprises planned for tomorrow. Does that sound good?"

Tomorrow, meaning Christmas Eve. It would mark the anniversary of my kidnapping, though I did not realize it as I spoke with Marvin. The promise of surprises did not lift my spirit. Tomorrow seemed very far away.

"Yeah…"

Even over the phone, Marvin sensed my sorrow and paused.

"Do you want me to come home?"

Yes. No. I didn't know what I wanted. I had never been a clingy child, and I was torn between my need for comfort, and my fear of sounding like a baby. I still had some pride left in me.

"No. I'm fine." I lied.

"Are you sure?"

I took a deep breath, looked up at Harry and answered calmly:

"Yes, Harry is here.

– That's right. Harry will take care of you. We both will.

– I know."

I hung up, still feeling a bit uncertain about everything that had just happened. I raised my eyes and found Harry watching me as usual, deep in thoughts.

"Come on, kid." he said finally. "Let's go make some hot cocoa. I know we still have a bag of marshmallows somewhere."

I was grateful for the distraction and followed him in the kitchen. Though we had commercial mix and plenty of Nestle Quick, Harry showed me how to make real old fashioned cocoa in a pan, mixing milk, vanilla, cinnamon and baking cocoa.

We were still in the kitchen, not half an hour later, when we heard a car in the driveway. A few seconds later, Marvin walked through the front door. I didn't run to him, but felt stupidly happy to see him.

"I thought you were spending the night." Harry welcomed him.

"Mylène has to leave early tomorrow, so she thought I should go home." explained Marvin.

He never said it, but we all knew my call had been the true reason behind his hasty return. The three of us spent the rest of the evening watching old black and white movies, drinking cocoa. I did not sit in one of the armchairs as I usually did, but directly on the rug in front of the couch, between Harry and Marvin.

I should not have been happy, and yet I was, in a very desperate and pathetic kind of way; surrounded by both Harry and Marvin, I put my fears to rest.

I was not alone.

I was wanted.

I was safe.


	23. Chapter 22

_AN:_

 _Hello everybody! Here is the last part of the Christmas chapters. I am very glad with how it turned out._

 _Dear Anon, do not worry, I will write more chapters from Harry and Marv's point of view, as well as some from the McCallisters' point of view. It has been too long and so many things have been happening on their side as well and I can't wait to share it all with you._

 _But for the moment, on with the main story:_

Chapter 22

This was it.

Christmas Eve.

Our one year anniversary.

I became aware of what day it was before I opened my eyes. I did not move and stared at the wall for a long time.

The previous night, upon discovering that my family had gone to Florida, I had come to a decision: I would not think about them, mope, or brood. Marvin had promised me a good day, so why shouldn't I enjoy myself?

Everybody else was.

If only I could stop caring.

I had gone to sleep holding on to this thought. My resolution did not last long. I awoke to a feeling of emptiness. I wasn't sad. I wasn't angry. I didn't feel anything. I do not remember dreaming about my family that night, which should've come as a relief, but somehow disturbed me. It was almost as if, even in my dreams, my family had deserted me.

It was still dark outside. I heard the water running upstairs, telling me Harry was taking his morning shower. I didn't try, or wanted to get up. I knew I would have to as soon as Harry showed up, but I wasn't sure I was ready to face the day. It was one of those bad mornings when I didn't want to get up, but knew Harry would make me.

Harry.

I so wanted to hate him. Hating Harry should've been easy after the cruel hand he had dealt me the previous night, and yet, I didn't. Harry had not lied. He had not tricked me. He had only told me the truth. A truth I had insisted on confronting. And Harry was there, whereas my family was not.

My choice that morning was simple: remain in bed until Harry came downstairs, which could be any minute, or kick myself out of bed. It was not an easy choice. But thinking about my family and their dream getaway holidays made my blood boil. I threw my covers off. What was I, some kind of wimp? I scolded myself, as I sat up in my bed. Only a… a _baby_ would need cuddling just because his jerk of a family had gone to stupid Florida without him. And I was neither a baby, nor a wimp, I decided.

Holding on to this new mantra, I got up and, for fear of changing my mind, went straight in the shower. I was dressed and in the process of making my bed when I heard Harry coming down the stairs. I could see he was pleasantly surprised at finding me up and ready for the day.

"Making your bed? That's new." he remarked, raising an eyebrow.

I don't normally make my bed, not even when my girlfriend spends the night. I never saw the point of making my bed, only to undo it a few hours later. It's way more comfortable too. Given what day it was, it had somehow seemed appropriate. A clean slate, of a sort.

"It's Christmas Eve.

– Yes, it is." Harry confirmed, appraising me as he spoke. "You're ready for a big day?"

My previous resolutions momentarily forgotten, I felt a twinge of nervousness in the pit of my stomach. I didn't know what to expect from this day. Christmas Eve was usually a low key event in my family. Everybody would be busy making some last minute Christmas preparations. We would have a quick dinner, attend the midnight mass and then our parents would send my siblings and me straight to bed so we'd be well rested on Christmas morning.

"Marv said we would have fun." I responded with some hesitation.

"We will. And tonight, we'll decorate the Christmas tree. I know you've been looking forward to that."

The Christmas tree.

Although Harry gets our tree early in the season, we never decorate it until Christmas Eve, save for the popcorn garlands that have to be installed as soon as they're ready to keep them from getting tangled.

I loved decorating the Christmas tree, but for the first time ever, the prospect of decorating one filled me with apprehension. Decorating a tree was… well it was a family moment. My father would always get a real tree, none of those feathered or fake silver ones. After dinner, the entire family would gather in the living room to decorate it. For the occasion, my mother would usually make a fresh batch of rice crispy balls we would all fight over as we worked. There would be Christmas songs, or a Christmas movie playing in the background, sometimes both. Buzz and Jeff were in charge of untangling the lights and wrapping them around the tree. My dad would light a fire, usually one of the first of the season. Megan and Linnie unwrapped the nutcrackers, installed the tracks for the toy train and hung the Christmas socks while I was busy unearthing ornaments from years past. It was like rediscovering treasured toys!

Decorating the tree didn't take long. Between the seven of us, we were done in no time. My parents would let my siblings and I do most of the work as they shared a glass of wine. My mother would however put the finishing touch on the tree, straightening some ornaments here and there, before installing the angel on top. We would then sit together until it was time for bed.

Regardless of my current feelings, the idea of decorating a tree with anyone besides my family felt a little out of place. I did want to do it, but it just felt… strange.

I decided not to think about it and followed Harry upstairs. To my surprise, Marvin had not slept-in and was having his morning coffee.

"Morning, kid!" he welcomed me. "You sleep okay? The cocoa didn't keep you up all night?"

From the way Marvin searched my eyes, I could tell Harry had told him all about the previous evening. He probably expected something much more upsetting than cocoa would've kept me awake. I did my best to act casually for fear of reopening that wound.

"I slept okay.

– No nightmares." reported Harry. "He even made his bed!"

I looked up at Harry, intrigued. True I had not had any nightmares, but I didn't know how he could be so sure. It would be years before anyone besides Harry and Marvin would be in position to tell me I talked in my sleep.

"You made your bed? Don't do that, kid!" Marvin jested. "Boring people make their bed. Like Harry.

– Excuse me?" Harry interjected " _I_ wasn't raised to be a slob."

"Exactly. Boring!" replied Marvin, winking at me.

Harry muttered something back in Italian, probably an insult, but I could tell he wasn't angry or even annoyed. They were both in a good mood, so I felt safe to grin back at Marvin.

"Are you hungry?" he asked "What do want for breakfast? It's the holidays, how about some pancakes?"

Pancakes? Marvin had not made pancakes since the morning we had left for Canada. Feeling me stiffen next to him, Harry answered for me as he moved to pour himself a cup of coffee:

"How about an omelet, Marv? We've got red onions and tomatoes; you could make your Spanish omelet with a side of fried potatoes."

Just for a second, I thought Marvin looked cross, but he quickly recovered.

"Sure. Omelet sounds good, kid?"

I nodded, relieved not to have to relive the pancake scene. I wasn't ready for that yet.

I don't cook with Marvin. He doesn't have Harry's sense of timing and tends to be all over the place. After bumping into him, dropping food and breaking dishes a few too many times, I learned it was preferable not to get in the way. Cleaning up the kitchen after Marvin was enough work as it was.

Marvin had just finished chopping onions when I heard the sound of a car in the driveway. I froze on the spot, wondering in alarm who that could be. Not only was it early in the morning, but we never had visitors. I was not the only one who heard the car; so did Harry and Marvin, but there was no panic.

"I'll get that." declared Marvin, wiping his hands. "Harry, could you take care of the rest of the filling?"

He didn't wait for Harry's response and walked to the front of the house to gather his boots and coat before going out. Harry took Marvin's place at the cutting board without showing much interest in our visitor.

"Who's at the door? Someone is coming over?"

This was not a part of our routine. I wasn't sure I liked that. For a second, I dreaded being faced with Sid, or Charlie, or both of them!

"Don't worry about it, it's just Marv's girlfriend." Harry informed me, seeing how anxious I was all of a sudden. "She's leaving this morning, remember?"

I relaxed, but only slightly at the news. Marvin's girlfriend never came to the house. Why would she stop by? So she could kiss Marvin goodbye? Yuck! Why couldn't she do that last night? Then again, my call had pulled Marvin away, so maybe it made sense.

I joined Harry at the kitchen counter.

"Can we make eggnog?"

I didn't really like eggnog, but it seemed like an appropriate drink for the holidays. My parents always bought some from the grocery store, but I knew Harry would know how to make real eggnog.

"Eggnog with omelet? Don't you think that's a lot of eggs for one morning? We'll make eggnog tomorrow. Here" he said, handing me a few tomatoes "You want to cut these for me?"

Harry acted like his request was not out of the ordinary, but this was definitely new; he had never let me handle a knife before!

"I can cut the tomatoes?"

I already had my eyes set on his chef knife, but I was getting ahead of myself. Like in everything else, Harry took it one step at the time with me.

"You use this one." Harry corrected me, pushing a smaller serrated knife in my direction.

"You're scared of letting me use the big one? I'll be careful.

– I know you will. I'm giving you this one because you're cutting tomatoes. Always use a serrated knife for tomatoes. Sharp blades won't cut through the flesh, they just crush them. A serrated knife gives you more control." Harry patiently explained.

I gave it a try and found that my knife could indeed saw through the tomatoes easily.

"Take your time and cut them in bite size, you don't want big chunks in your omelette." Harry recommended as he diced the potatoes.

I applied myself to the task, determined to prove to Harry I could handle a knife, any knife. Looking back, I can't help but think it must not have been a coincidence that Harry chose to entrust me with this new responsibility right after I had suffered this latest blow from my family. I still can't bring myself to hate him for it.

"Good job, kid." Harry approved when I was done.

I was beating the eggs and Harry had just started cooking the onion and garlic when the car left. The front door soon opened, but rather than hearing Marvin take his boots off, I was startled by what sounded like a commotion in the foyer. Before I could wonder what was going on, a fluffy ball of blond fur erupted in the kitchen. A dog! Not just any dog, I recognized that golden retriever, it belonged to Marvin's girlfriend!

"Zeus!" I recalled his name and jumped off my stool.

The dog, clearly overjoyed by his new surroundings and company, came to me, wagging his tail around, beating it on the walls and furniture. I soon found myself on the floor petting him and scratching him at the same time while he licked my hands and face.

"Hey, hey, don't put your face so close to its mouth." Harry pulled me back a little.

He still didn't trust dogs. I had heard my own father tell me the same thing about Chester, but I was almost as excited as the dog by this unexpected visit.

"Hey, look who I found outside!" Marvin announced as he joined us in the kitchen carrying a bag of dogfood.

"You brought Zeus!

– Mylène couldn't take him with her to see her folks. I told her we'd take good care of him. He's way better off with us than in a kennel, don't you think?

– Yeah!"

I was ecstatic. This was the best surprise ever! Zeus toured the kitchen, sniffing around under Harry's watchful glare. He showed no surprise or disapproval as he kept cooking the omelette filling.

"Don't get too attached, kid." he cautioned. "That's just while Marv's girlfriend is out of town."

I did hear Harry, but it was hard to care. The only thing that mattered was that there was a dog in the house!

"When is she coming back?" I asked, trying to sound all grown-up about it, while the only thing I wanted to do was chase after the dog.

"Mylène said she'd be back after New Year." Marvin informed me.

To my young self, that was ages away, and I found myself smiling at the good news. I still don't know whose idea it was to have the dog over for the holidays, but it was a good one. If I had to guess, my money would be on Marvin, but then again, Harry was crafty enough to also come up with such a plan. I didn't care. They had promised me a good day full of fun surprises and they had delivered well before eight o'clock.

"How about you set his bowls up?" Marvin suggested. "You can watch Zeus, while we finish cooking breakfast."

I had completely forgotten about breakfast. I was too excited to eat. I found Zeus's bowls in a bag by the door along with some chew toys, balls, tug ropes and dog treats. I took the bowls back in the kitchen without forgetting to fill one with fresh water. Zeus followed me around and sat next to his bowl, looking at me expectantly.

"Are you hungry, boy?" I asked the dog who, I swear could understand me, and licked its lips.

"He's already eaten this morning." Marvin told me. "You can give him a treat, and you'll get to feed him tonight."

Like most dogs, the surest way to Zeus's heart, was through his stomach; that bag of treats went a long way into cementing our friendship.

I didn't see Zeus as a toy or a present; he was so much more! Harry and even Marvin were not always the best of playmates, they were grown-ups. Zeus could play with me in a way neither of them could; he had a playful innocence that brought a smile to my face.

I was used to the company of dogs, but this was different. Chester had never been _my_ dog. He would answer to my mother, and when she wasn't around, to Buzz. If I wanted to take him for a walk, Jeff would insist on holding the leach under the pretext that I was not strong enough to control Chester. I'm sure he did it just to spite me. Zeus was twice as big as Chester, and he gave me no problem. Then again, since we were in the country, we didn't exactly put Zeus on a leash.

Harry and Marvin gave me free rein over the dog, though they had to keep me from overfeeding him. I could not help myself; in my eyes, any reason was a good reason to give Zeus a treat and, to Harry's disapproval, scraps from the table.

"Don't feed him your eggs.

– He's hungry." I argued. "Look at him!

– He's not hungry." Marvin assured me. "He's just begging out of habit; Mylène always gives him food from the table.

– Well not in this house" decreed Harry. "Do not give him potatoes either, kid! It's bad for him."

But I would nevertheless sneak a bite or two to Zeus whenever Harry wasn't looking, which was not that often. Harry kept a close watch on the dog for the duration of its stay. For once, I was not the object of his attention, the dog was. But since I spent as much time as I could with Zeus, Harry didn't have to split his attention.

Zeus's presence changed the dynamic in the house, not to mention our daily walks; I would run with him in the snow, throw his ball or stick around, and Marvin helped be design a scavenger hunt for him in our backyard using his toys. He provided me with a much needed change of pace.

I barely saw the day go by. In the afternoon, when I sat down for my daily reading session, Zeus crawled next to me on the couch. Luckily for him, Harry was busy in the kitchen; something told me he would not have approved of a dog on the furniture.

"Does he know any tricks?" I asked Marvin.

Chester was no border collie, but he could roll over, give his paw and had been taught by Buzz how to count to three. For some reason, he never mastered four, but three was still impressive.

"I don't think so." reflected Marvin.

"Can I teach him some?

– He's a little old to be taught new tricks, but you can try." Marvin did not discourage me.

I was confident I could teach Zeus plenty of tricks. I thought carefully about which ones I should try first before retreating to the basement with the dog. I wanted to surprise Harry and Marvin and they played along, promising not to come downstairs.

It kept me busy for part of the afternoon, but the result was well worth the efforts. Just as I had predicted, Zeus was a very clever dog. I later called Harry and Marvin in the living room before pointing down to Zeus, commanding:

"Sit, boy!"

I had feared Zeus would be distracted by Harry and Marvin, but he came and sat in front of me at once. Harry nodded approvingly, he always approved of discipline, while Marvin looked impressed.

"Wow, Mylène will be-

– I'm not done!" I interrupted him. "High five, Zeus!"

I extended my hand, and Zeus slapped his paw in my palm.

"Good boy!"

I pat him on the head and Zeus wagged his tail.

"That's great, kid!" Marvin congratulated me.

"I want to teach him to talk next, and the names of his toys, but… We're out of dog treats." I confessed. "Can we buy some more?

– We're out of-? That was a new bag! How many treats did you give him?" Marvin asked, looking both amused and a little worried.

"I had to reward him, how else is Zeus supposed to learn?"

Harry did not reprimand me, or accuse me of overindulging the dog. He looked almost as pleased as I was.

"Who's training who, I wonder. The dog's going to be overweight by the time your girlfriend comes to pick it up." he chucked to Marvin. "That's enough tricks for today." he then told me. "You don't want Zeus to be sick, do you?"

I was a little disappointed, but knew Harry was right. I would not have forgiven myself for making Zeus sick.

"Don't worry, kid; you'll have plenty of time to teach him new tricks." Harry reminded me.

That brightened me up. I intended to make the most of my time with Zeus. Harry, I think, understood and encouraged this arrangement. I expected him to ask for my help to cook the Christmas Eve dinner, but he probably knew I would be too distracted with Zeus around, and gave me the day off.

While Harry was busy cooking dinner, Marvin took me sliding downhill with Zeus until it was almost dark. By then, I was getting a little tired, but was thrilled when Marvin lit a campfire in the backyard. Harry joined us shortly afterward with hotdogs for us to roast on the fire. He brought drinks for Marvin and himself and offered me warm spiced apple cider.

Since he said we would be having a late dinner, Harry also made bananas stuffed with marshmallows and chocolate chips wrapped in tin foil he then placed on embers. Talk about improving the banana split recipe! I sat by the fire with my hotdog on a stick, no longer feeling the cold, Zeus lying next to me. I'm not sure he missed his mistress; he seemed just as satisfied as I was by what a good day we had just had.

Harry and Marvin talked about this and that. They teased each other over past lovers, wild parties, or card games. They were both at ease, smoked cigars and ate their campfire snacks. A much more relaxed evening than the one we had last year.

I'm not sure if they gave much thought to where we all where just a year ago; me all alone at home, setting up traps all over the house, waiting for their arrival, them getting ready to… well I'm not sure what they ever intended to do with me, but planning to loot my house.

They did not bring it up.

I simply forgot. Or did I choose to forget?

I did not think about the sinister events the day commemorated right away. It was probably for the best; no use reliving these painful moments. There was also a part of me that preferred to bury those days, and never look back on them.

By the time we went back inside, the night was much colder and it had started to snow. Between all that fresh air and the excitement of the dog's presence, I was beginning to feel pretty worn out. It was well past eight o'clock, and I was sure it was time for dinner. Harry had other plans in mind, however.

"What do you think, kid? Is it time to decorate the tree?"

The tree.

I had almost forgotten about our Christmas tree. A tree I would not be decorating with my family, but with Harry and Marvin. My _new_ family. As strange as it might sound, I found myself riddled with guilt. It almost felt like I was about to cheat on my family. It was ridiculous; I mean _they_ were in _Florida_! And yet it did not change how I felt. I did not know how to process these feelings and did not respond. Perhaps sensing a change in my mood, Harry added:

"You'll have to show Marv. It's his first Christmas tree, you know."

Clever as always, Harry knew just what to say to shift my attention from the memory of my family to Marvin, who followed his lead:

"That's right, kid; so you'll have to tell me where all the ornaments go."

I was still feeling conflicted, not to say emotional, but I would not shy away from this new responsibility. Marvin had told me all about the Festival of Lights; it was only fair that I should now show him how to make a proper Christmas tree.

When we entered the house, we were met with a delicious smell coming from our dinner that was slowly cooking on the stove. I soon forgot all about the hotdogs and marshmallow bananas. Even Zeus took a few steps in the kitchen, nose in the air.

"Don't even think about it, buster." said Harry ousting the dog out of the kitchen.

"When are we going to eat?" I tried to stall, but Harry would not be distracted.

"Later." Harry promised, leading me in the living room.

I tried my best to hide my anxiety, but I don't think I did a really good job. I stood in the living room, looking at anything but the tree in front of me, wondering what to do with myself. Zeus, much more at ease than I was, lay down on the carpet with a sigh of contentment. For the first time ever, I envied the blissful ignorance of a dog. Marvin joined us in the living room, walking past me to the radio.

"How about some music?" he suggested.

I'm not sure if it was only for my benefit, but he sounded particularly cheerful.

"You know what I just realized, Marv" Harry remarked. "Your mother never let you have a Christmas tree, but you know all the Christmas songs by heart.

– Well they _are_ catchy." he retorted, smirking. "We didn't own any Christmas albums, but my mom was always partial to Crosby's White Christmas. She would stop whatever she was doing to listen when it came on. Saved my hide a couple of times.

– Yes, I imagine it did." Harry laughed.

Marvin found a Christmas music station and all those songs I had been avoiding for over a month and the memories they carried with them washed over me. It felt like my heart was beating in my ears, and my mind went numb. Harry chose that moment to present me with the box of ornaments we had made together:

"Here, kid; you do the honors."

I stared at the box, and the ornaments without really seeing them. Back home, decorating the tree usually took the form of a happy scuffle. My siblings and I would jump on the nearest box and get started right away. We all had favorite ornaments; some we had made at school, others our parents had bought to commemorate each of our birth, fancy ornaments, older ornaments and plenty of cheap ones with our favorite cartoon characters.

All alone with no one but Harry and Marvin who were both looking at me, choosing that first ornament suddenly felt very intimidating. Even the jolly Rocking Around the Christmas tree on the radio did not lift my spirits. I nevertheless picked an ornament, I don't remember which one, it didn't really matter, and I hung it on the tree. Then another. And another one after that. Harry and Marvin then joined me in decorating the tree.

I'm not sure if they perceived my nervousness; both of them acted natural, bickering as could be expected over their choice of ornaments, criticizing each other over where they should hang them.

Marvin made mistakes on purpose, loading a single branch with too many ornaments, or placing similar ones next to each other, so I would make him spread them out. He would put the biggest ones he could find on smaller branches at the top of the tree and lay the hanging ones across a few branches. I knew he was just goofing off, but his playfulness helped me overcome the reservations I had about whole thing. I shut the memories of Christmas past out of my mind and my heartbeat slowly returned to normal.

Harry did not hang that many ornaments. He did hang a few here and there, but he mostly watched Marvin and me work, drink in hand. He wasn't bored, if anything, I would say that for the first time since I had met Harry, he looked happy. It's not that he was smiling like an idiot, or humming Christmas song; it was more of a general feeling. In that moment, I saw a glimpse of the man he was beneath all the anger and threat; I saw how he could be fun-loving, attentive and even devoted, once you get past the surface. I couldn't put all these reflections in words right away, but I knew I preferred this Harry to the one that had held a gun to my head.

Decorating the tree took some time but Harry and Marvin didn't rush me. Instead of the traditional star or angel sitting on top of the tree, we had a pair of antlers we had found in the woods. It was different to say the least, but not out of place with the rest of our ornaments. I'll admit that the memory of the three of us decorating our first Christmas tree is not a bad one.

"So, what do you make of your first Christmas tree, Marv?" Harry asked him when we sat down to admire our work."

"Well, I suppose this tradition is not so bad. But don't _ever_ tell my mother." Marvin told Harry, sipping his own glass of liquor.

I sat once again on the floor in front of Harry and Marvin, Zeus's head on my lap. It was a nice and quiet moment. Harry returned once in a while to the kitchen to put the final touch to our dinner. I don't remember at which point Marvin switched from radio to the television, but we came across A Charlie Brown Christmas.

I was not particularly fond of Charlie Brown, but it was a staple of the holidays just as much as the Grinch and Frosty the Snowman. My siblings liked this special much more than I ever did, and even Buzz would sit with us to watch it. I was however surprised by how well Marvin knew the movie.

"Gosh, that brings back memories; I used to watch it when I was about your age, kid." he told me.

It was strange to think that Marvin was once a child not so different from me.

"Remember how you used to sneak to our house every year just to watch it, cause your mother wouldn't let you?" Harry laughed from the kitchen.

"Well I did come to watch the special, but I mostly came over for your mother's fried calamari.

– In this case, sorry to disappoint, but there won't be any calamari tonight. But don't worry, you won't starve. Dinner's ready."

I wasn't sure what to expect when Harry had mentioned something about a big dinner. As my parents would be working on the 24th most of the time, we would have a quick dinner made of pot pie, meatloaf, or lasagna.

Harry's version of a Christmas Eve dinner was nothing less than a feast. This wasn't his usual evening meal; Harry went above and beyond to mark the day. We had smoked salmon crostini with stuffed mushrooms for appetizers, a warm citrus salad with seared scallops, followed by Harry's signature seafood stew with clam, mussels, shrimps and cod.

My family did not cook seafood that often, and although I knew I liked garlic shrimps, I wasn't so sure about the rest. I had never had mussels, scallops, or clams before! And to think that Harry deplored the fact he couldn't get any fresh squid and tentacles in town; I'm not sure I would've been able to eat, let alone appreciate them at my age. The linguine with shrimps he later served was more up my alley.

I did not dig in and took my time, testing the texture and taste of the food, but grew more confident with each bite. I had to admit everything Harry had cooked was delicious and I soon wanted to try it all! Harry seemed particularly proud of his dinner and I know we all ate too much that evening.

For dessert, we had a sweet chewy Italian cake filled with dried fruits and nuts that Harry's mother had sent him that week. It reminded me a little of fruitcake, but with much more chocolate. She had also sent nougat and light almond chocolate cookies.

This feast was an unconventional Christmas Eve dinner, but not one I soon forgot. I've been helping Harry elaborate and cook this dinner that is always loaded with fish and shellfish for a few years now. When we moved near bigger cities, Harry bought Italian inspired cakes, but those were not as satisfying as his mother's baking. I eventually persuaded Harry to get his mother to send him her recipes for her golden bread and fig cake I heard him rave about so often. It took me lots of failed attempts, and my cakes don't exactly look right, but at least they taste good. Even Harry says so. My baking skills are usually limited to basic cookies and muffins, but I did make an effort to master these traditional Christmas recipes. I can't explain it, but it seems important to show Harry I can do this.

Our Christmas Eve feast stretched over the course of a few hours and we didn't go to bed till early in the morning. I remember being full, tired, but content. Harry and Marvin had been true to their words and had given me a great Christmas Eve. There was only one way to end it perfectly:

"Can Zeus sleep with me?" I asked, yawning.

"Sure he can!" Marvin automatically gave his blessing.

That was one instance where Harry intervened:

"Are you sure it's safe to leave the dog unsupervised with the kid?

– Golden retrievers are good with kids, I wouldn't worry about it." Marvin reassured him. Besides, the dog should sleep downstairs anyway." added Marvin. "So he doesn't eat the popcorn garlands."

After hearing this, Harry did relent; Zeus slept in the basement with me for the remaining of his stay with us.

"Don't let him sleep in your bed. He'll get dog hair all over." he advised.

My mother never let Chester sleep on any of our beds for the same reason; he had been trained to sleep on his cushion in my parents' bedroom. But of course Zeus found his way into my bed not long after I had set up for the night. His presence made me happier than I remembered being in ages and I did not even try to push him off. Zeus was much more comforting than my toy elephant, though I did not need much comforting that night. When my head touched the pillow, not one thought went out to my family. I'm not sure whether I should be thankful, saddened or ashamed by this.

Christmas day was much quieter. We all slept late that morning, and I didn't wake up when Harry came downstairs to take the dog out. I know Harry's the one who took Zeus out as Marvin was still sleeping by the time I got up.

When I first woke up alone in my bed, I thought for a second that Zeus had just been another one of my dreams, but I soon heard the clicking of his claws on the floor upstairs, and I happily jumped out of bed. I took a quick shower and got dressed in a heartbeat.

This time, I didn't bother making my bed.

If Christmas Eve had been different from the ones I traditionally had with my family, so was this Christmas day. There were no presents under the tree, no family gathering, or visits to the neighbors to wish them a merry Christmas. Although Harry retreated to his bedroom later that day to call his own family, we didn't wish each other merry Christmas.

It didn't bother me as much as I thought it would. After all the tension and heartbreak of the past months, I enjoyed the much-needed mellow atmosphere between the three of us that morning. It was almost cozy, when I didn't stop and think too hard about where I was. After a year together, we had reached a certain level of understanding. Harry had also not forgotten my request and had made eggnog while I slept. The creamy drink he served me that day made me forever renounce store bought eggnog.

Given the circumstances, what more could I ask for?

We did not have a traditional Christmas dinner either. Forget turkey, stuffing, meat pies, or mash potatoes, we had Chinese food. I think this was a private joke between Harry and Marvin, but one that stuck; we always have Chinese food on Christmas day. So much so that I have come to associate chicken fried rice, wonton soup, eggrolls, chow mein and ginger beef broccoli with Christmas as much as mistletoe and gingerbread cookies.

Zeus's presence sweetened the holidays, especially that Christmas morning. I was so pleased by his presence I did not mind the absence of presents. As Marvin had already offered me presents during the Festival of Lights, and as he did not celebrate Christmas, the absence of gifts from him did not come as a surprise. And since Harry would often accuse Marvin of spoiling me, I did not expect any presents from him either.

I had however misjudged Harry. He _did_ have a present for me. He didn't get me toys, books or even something as boring as clothes. His gift was a symbolic one. After dinner, when I thought we would settle in front of a movie, Harry sat me down on the couch with Marvin not too far away. He remained standing, looking at me with such seriousness I started to wonder if I had done something wrong.

"It's Christmas." Harry began. "You've been with us for some time now."

Harry interrupted himself and seemed to think his words over as he underlined:

"You've been with us for a year now."

I did not like this emphasis on the passage of time and looked away.

"Kevin" Harry called me back to attention. "Yesterday wasn't just any day; you know that, don't you?"

I swallowed with some difficulty, but nodded.

"You said it was… my birthday?

– It is."

Seeing me frown, Harry added:

"I know you don't see it that way, but you will. This day is very special. And not just for you, but for the three of us. You know why?"

What could I say, except the truth?

"Because you took me.

– Because it's the day we became a family." Harry corrected me.

I waited for Harry's words to trigger my outrage as they should have, but nothing came. Examining my own feelings, I found no anger, or sadness. I looked back at Harry without resentment. When he saw I didn't argue, Harry actually smiled before prompting me:

"We are family, aren't we, Kevin?"

I fidgeted a moment, thinking back on the last few days. I looked from Harry to Marvin. They were not my mom and dad. They never would be. But they were all I had. Better than no family at all.

"We're family." I found myself saying.

The words sounded strange to my ears, and left a bitter taste in my mouth, but I did not take them back. Behind Harry, I saw Marvin smile warmly. I had given the right answer.

"Just like any family, we've had our ups and downs." Harry continued. "But Marv and me, we're really proud of you."

It's amazing how such simple words can have a powerful effect on the mind. I so wanted to belong, and clung to Harry's words.

"You are?

– We sure are, kid." confirmed Marvin.

"You're also older now. And a part of growing up is getting new responsibilities." Harry told me.

"Responsibilities?"

There was a word that did not sound fun. Coming from Harry, it made me nervous.

"That's right. Marv and me, we're counting on you to keep helping us around here.

– How?

– Well, for one thing, you'll be responsible for taking out the trash from now on. Understood?"

Taking out the trash? I remembered how my father used to joke about it, saying taking out the trash was a man's job. It didn't sound too hard, and I nodded. Harry however, was not done.

"I've taught you how to cook, so once a week, you'll also be in charge of making dinner."

Cooking dinner? Well, that wasn't so bad either. It might even be fun.

"What if I'm missing ingredients?

– Don't worry, we'll plan what meals you want to make together, and we'll make sure you have everything you need."

I'm sure Harry and Marvin had given these new responsibilities a lot of thought. They had not been chosen at random. What Harry and Marvin didn't say, and what I did not realize right away was how these chores came with a new level of freedom. A tiny little bit of freedom, but freedom nonetheless.

Taking out the trash did not sound very exciting, until I saw how I was allowed out of the house. _Unsupervised_! It was just for a minute or two. I'm sure both Harry and Marvin counted down the seconds until I came back inside, and were ready to chase after me should I ever try to run, but this was a test. Could I be trusted these few previous minutes on my own? After twelve months, they decided it was time to test the water.

Cooking, on the other hand, did not feel like such a chore. At first, I kept to simple meals: fajitas, tacos, mini pizzas, cheeseburgers, lots of pasta, and eggs, before widening my options. Cooking on my own also gave me the freedom to experiment with new ingredients, recipes and take on baking. I tried a few muffin recipes, brownies and stuff. Harry would always watch over me as I cooked and handled the stove, but he never stopped me from trying something new. And both he and Marvin made a point of eating whatever I cooked or baked.

These new responsibilities sounded reasonable, and so I did not protest. Responsibilities were not all there was to Harry's present as he continued:

"Growing up also comes with privileges. Since you are now one year older, Marv and me discussed it, and we agreed it was time for you to have this."

Marvin fetched a wooden box hidden behind his armchair and handed it to me. It was a light plain box. It wasn't even wrapped or anything. I opened it and discovered two dollars inside.

"You're giving me two bucks?" I asked, not knowing what to make of such a gift.

"It's your new weekly allowance." Harry explained. "It's high time for you to learn how to handle money."

An allowance?

It made me look at the two bucks with renewed interest. I had never had an allowance before. Megan and Buzz did, but Linnie, Jeff and I were deemed too young. I was very pleased by the fact that Harry and Marvin, unlike my parents, thought I was old enough.

I probably should've asked myself what was the point of getting an allowance when I wasn't allowed out in public; it's not like Harry and Marvin would just let me walk to the nearest convenience store to buy a pack of gum or chocolate, but honestly, I didn't see it that way. I was very pleased with my allowance, and took great satisfaction in watching the amount of money in my box increase steadily. It reminded me of Buzz' own cash hoard hiding on the top shelf in his room. Harry and Marvin might've been thieves, but they never took a dime out of my box, not even when they needed change.

The allowance was more than an empty gift; it was the excuse Harry found to introduce me to finances. He wanted me to learn the value of money. He would make me sit with him as he worked on our weekly grocery list, making me look up the price of items in the flyers. When he came back from the grocery store, we would go through the receipt together.

These simple actions made me look at my two dollars very differently. When you're nine-years-old, two bucks might sound like a lot of money, but looking at an actual grocery receipt made me realize how quickly it could be spent.

As I got older, Harry started showing me their income, along with bills and various expenses; rent, electricity, phone, cable, insurances. I learned how to balance a check book and how to establish a budget. Harry recently started to show me how to fill income taxes. Now that's a real pain! But it is a life experience, and that's what Harry wanted.

Looking at the two dollars in my box, I never could've guessed everything Harry had in store for me.

"Thanks." I remembered saying and meaning it.

This little ritual would be repeated each year on Christmas. Harry never acknowledged my birthday in August, but on Christmas evening, he would hand me new responsibilities, along with new privileges. I have to say I came to await these with as much excitement as I once did Christmas presents.

"Now remember, kid, what we have right now is a deal. You know what a deal is?

– I think so.

– This isn't just a present. It means you have my word that, as long as you take your responsibilities seriously, you'll keep your privilege. You're old enough to understand what that means, aren't you?"

I liked the way Harry spoke to me, like an adult, and I nodded gravely.

"There are consequences to breaking a deal, you know." Harry warned me. "But I know you won't disappoint us, will you?

– I won't." I promised.

Again, Harry smiled at me.

"Good. After all, family should trust one another."

There it was again, that word at the heart of our little family: Trust. Because that's really all it came down to. Harry wanted me to show him he could trust me. And I was finally ready to work for it.

It took me years, and I had to prove myself to Harry and Marvin with much more then household chores, but gain their trust, I did.

If only I had known what it would cost me.

 _AN:_

 _I hope you liked this chapter!_ _Harry's feast was inspired by the Italian tradition of the Christmas Eve Feast of the seven fishes. It's actually the menu I will be serving my family next Christmas. The cake Harry's mother sent was panforte.  
_


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